


Carry You

by thecarlysutra



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal, Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Bondage, Boys Kissing, Cooking, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dry Humping, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Getting to Know Each Other, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Kneeling, M/M, Men Crying, Naked Cuddling, Non-Sexual Submission, Oral Sex, Over the Knee, Praise Kink, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Sensation Play, Service Submission, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Spanking, Submission, Subspace, Touch-Starved, Touching, Vibrators, honor bondage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: And sometimes, you need someone to carry you.Ray Levoi is turning twenty-one, which means he'll be assigned a dominant. That much he knows.Everything else is a surprise.
Relationships: Walter Crow Horse/Ray Levoi
Comments: 96
Kudos: 112





	1. The Contract

**Author's Note:**

  
Ray waited in the same sub agency suite where he’d been all day. They’d decorated the room like a living room with plush chairs around a coffee table, but he was too nervous to sit, so he stood. He was exhausted, and pessimistic. At this point, he was honestly considering running away as his best option. How long could he live on his own before he got picked up? A year, maybe. Maybe two, if he got lucky. But then he’d be really screwed: When they found him, they would assign him to some humorless hardass, not to mention the punishment. The punishment would be severe. They might even brand him somewhere he couldn’t hide it. He couldn’t stand thinking about that. 

He was mulling this over when the door opened and his final potential dominant entered. Ray’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t be worse than the last candidate, could he? Famous last words. 

The dom entered quietly, closing the door behind him. He was maybe a couple inches shorter than Ray, and at least ten years older, but that still made him one of the youngest candidates he’d seen today. He had long, black hair worn loose, and he was dressed in blue jeans, flannel, and cowboy boots. He was nice to look at, and when his eyes found Ray, he smiled. Ray relaxed a little. 

“Hey there,” the man said. “You Ray?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The man approached him, extended his hand. “I’m Walter. You can shake that, if you want.” 

Ray blushed and shook Walter’s hand. This was not the way he’d been treated by the other doms, and he was surprised. 

“You wanna have a seat?” Walter asked, and they sat across from each other in the plush armchairs. “Gosh, you’re young.” 

“I’m going to turn twenty-one next week,” Ray said. 

“I know; I read your file. Reading it and seeing it are separate things, I guess. You okay? You seem a little wound up.” 

“Yes, sir. It’s just been a long day.” 

“How many dominants you meet with today? Other than me.” 

“Five. You’re the last one.” 

Walter whistled, long and low. “Yeah, I imagine that’s no walk in the park. Let’s make this easy. I’ve read your file, and you’ve read mine. Let’s just ask each other whatever else we want to know, and then you can go home.” 

“Okay. I … you can go first. I mean, if you want.” 

“I imagine what you’ve been through today, Ray, but you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I expect basic respect, but I’m not gonna get after you for penny ante things like suggesting I do something. I’ll tell you if something you suggest doesn’t work for me, but try to talk to me the way you would your father, or a teacher, maybe. Respectful, but not … not flinching. Not afraid. There’s no reason you should be afraid of me. Do you understand?”

Ray nodded. This was really different than the other dominants he’d spent the day meeting, and he tried to trust it and relax, but it was hard. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“All right, here’s what I’m wondering: What do you want out of this relationship?” 

Ray blinked. No one had asked him that. Ever. Not one time in his life. “I … I don’t know. I just … I mean, I have to be in a dominant's care, it’s the law—” 

“I know it’s the law. Lemme rephrase. If you imagined your perfect partnership with a dominant, what would that look like? And be honest with me. It’s important for both of us.” 

Ray poked his tongue into his cheek. He traced the edges of his teeth with his tongue. He looked at Walter’s boots. 

“Freedom. I don’t want every minute of my day scheduled, and I don’t want to be treated like a child. I want to keep going to school, and after that, I want to get a job. I want to be respected, and I want to be able to count on you, and I want—like you said, I want it to be a partnership. Not me always on my knees and you standing above me.” He flinched, waited for censure. 

“Sounds good to me, Ray,” Walter said, and Ray looked up cautiously. His expression was warm and open. He was being genuine. 

Ray cleared his throat. “What—how do you see your role in this?” 

“My job is to help guide you, to keep you in check. And to help you with your submissive needs. We’ll do at least a session a week to take care of those needs, and outside that, I’m to be a support system, a guiding hand. I’ll help you take care of yourself and keep you on target; I’ll make sure you’re happy and healthy, and I’ll look after you.”

Ray bit his lip. “And you’ll punish me.”

“When you require correction, yes, I will punish you.” 

“How?” 

“How will I punish you?” 

“Yeah.”

Walter considered for a moment. “It’ll depend on you, what you need and what you respond to, but punishment falls into three categories: I make you do something you don’t want to do, I won’t let you do something you want to do, or physical correction. I may make you write lines or stand in the corner. I may give you a curfew or require you to ask my permission to do something you’re normally allowed to do on your own. I may spank you or wash your mouth out with soap. But punishment will always be proportional and appropriate for you and your misbehavior. And it’s never going to be a surprise. We will have rules; you will know what they are. If you choose to break a rule, that’s when you get punished. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, sir.” He studied Walter’s face, his easy smile, his warm eyes. He decided to go for it. “Why don’t you have a submissive already? Or—or do you, and I’ll just be part of a set—?”

“I do not have a submissive at the moment, Ray,” he answered gently. “This is an intense, personal relationship, and I respect it too much to try to handle more than one submissive at a time. I have had submissives before; my last submissive left around a year ago. She fell in love with another dominant, and they got married, so we transferred her contract.”

“You haven’t found someone new in a year?”

“Like I said, Ray, this is an intense, personal relationship. It’s important to me that I find the right submissive.”

Ray’s stomach dropped. “Oh,” he said softly. “So you might … so you might not want me.”

“I was already pretty sure when the agency sent me your file, but after talking here with you, Ray, I can tell you it would be my genuine pleasure to be your dominant.”

Ray grinned, then tried to school his expression into something more neutral. “I’m glad.”

“I mean, you’ll probably want to do some thinking; you’ve seen a lot of candidates today—”

“No,” Ray blurted. “I like you the best. It’s not even close. I like you a hundred times better than any of the others.”

Walter smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’ll—you’ll have to speak with my father.”

“I anticipated that; you’re still a minor. I’m happy to talk to him.”

“And I guess you guys will work out my contract,” Ray said.

Walter shook his head. “No. You and I will do that. It’s a contract between the two of us, and we’re the ones who get a say.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Well, he isn’t in charge here. I am. And if he has your best interests in mind, he’ll understand my position.”

Ray frowned. He thought of the other dominants they’d sent to see him, strict military officers or stuffy businessmen his father had selected. Walter was the only one he’d been allowed to pick for himself. He just hoped his father would let him make the final decision.

***

Two days before Ray’s birthday, he waited outside the lawyer’s office with butterflies in his stomach. Walter had talked to his father, and whatever he’d said was enough that Ray was allowed to go to the lawyer’s by himself. Walter would be meeting him there.

He arrived a few minutes early. Ray smiled as he came in, and stood to receive him.

“Hi,” he said softly. 

“Hi,” Walter said, smiling. “You ready to do this? Feeling okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

The lawyer called them in. Ray and Walter sat on opposite sides of the conference table with the lawyer at the head. He had a legal pad and a small pile of papers in front of him.

“I’ve written up the basic contract,” the lawyer, whose name, if Ray remembered correctly, was Roberts. “You’ll both need to look it over, and we’ll make changes as needed.”

Roberts handed them each a copy of the contract, and a pen. Ray had barely started reading when Walter spoke.

“I want a nine month contract,” he said.

“Six months is standard for a new contract,” Roberts said.

“I know it is, but that’s just a bit short for me. Ray, do you mind if we make it nine months?”

Ray thought about it a moment. “No, I guess not. You know better about this stuff.” He frowned. “What happens if I want to break the contract?”

Roberts started to reprimand him, but Walter held up his hand and answered his question calmly. “If you have cause to break the contract before the nine months is up, you will have to bring that reason to a mediator, who will decide whether it’s sufficient evidence to break the contract. If we both agree it’s not working out, we can dissolve the contract at any time. Okay?”

“Cold feet?” Roberts asked.

“No,” Ray said. “I just like knowing where the exits are.”

“If the nine months work out, we’ll probably renew on year-long contracts until there’s a change in our relationship,” Walter said.

“Like what?” Ray asked.

“Like if you decide to be my submissive permanently, or if we get married.”

Ray blushed a little. “Oh.”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” Walter said. “I said if.” 

They looked back down at the contracts. 

“I want to finish college,” Ray said. “I'm working on becoming a physical therapist. I have one more year until I graduate, and then another year in a residency.”

“Can you do that here in town?” Walter asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because living together is non-negotiable. You’ll have your own room, your own space, at my place, but it’s imperative that we live together for this relationship to work. I cannot do this job remotely. I want you to keep going to school. I want you to work if you want. But we have to live together. Is that fair?”

Ray nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.”

Roberts made some notes. “All right. Anything else?”

Walter looked at him. “Do you have your own money?”

“No. I’m in school.”

“How do you pay for school?”

“I have a scholarship.”

“All right,” Walter said. “You’ll get an allowance from me once a month for anything you need or want outside of school. Anything you need for school, I’ll pay for outright. You can do what you want with your money, but I will check in once a month to see if there are any problems with your spending. This will continue when you’re making your own money, if you choose to work. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Roberts made some notes. Ray looked at the contract.

“No collars,” he said abruptly.

“Sorry?” Roberts said.

“I don’t want to be made to wear a collar. Not inside the house, and especially not in public. It’s important to me. I want it in writing.”

Roberts studied Walter’s face. He nodded. “I don’t see a problem with that.”

“Do I have to have sex with you?” Ray asked.

“No,” Walter said. “I will never ask you to do anything sexual that makes you uncomfortable. You will never be given a sexual punishment. We do not have to include sex in your sessions. And even if we do, you never have to have sex with me outside that setting. Understand?” He looked at Roberts. “Put that in there. ‘Submissive is completely in control of his participation in sexual scenarios, and any breach of this rule is immediate grounds for dissolution of the contract.’”

Ray relaxed. “Thanks.”

Walter shook his head. “No, Ray. That’s a given. You respect me; I respect you.”

Ray smiled. “Yes, sir.”

***

Ray spent the day before his birthday packing. He had dinner with his parents, and blew out the candles on his cake wishing for his new life to be as good as his old one.

Nine a.m. the next day found Ray at the lawyer's office again to sign the updated contracts. He read through the document carefully several times before signing his name. 

"Sorry," he said to Walter, flushing a little. 

"Nothing to be sorry about. You deserve to know what you're getting into." 

The lawyer notarized their contract, and presented them with papers. Walter's, Ray knew, explained his ownership of Ray and gave him the same rights his parents had had over him before he came of age. Walter could see his health records, his credit report, his report cards. He could make medical and legal decisions for him. Ray's papers denoted his status as a submissive, guaranteed he was under contract, and listed Walter's credentials and contact information. They were for when he needed to navigate bureaucracy, or if he got into trouble. 

By the time they left the lawyer's office, it was late morning, and the moving company had already moved Ray's things to Walter's house. Ray followed Walter to the east side of town, up into the hills, where a lush forest insulated the houses from each other. Walter's place was about fifteen minutes outside town, a large glass and redwood structure overlooking a lake. Ray marveled at the house, which was unlike any he'd ever seen, and beautiful in its simplicity. Walter opened the garage and they both parked inside, and then Walter led him into the house. 

The inside was beautiful, too. The floors, the furniture, and some of the walls were the same bare, red wood as the outside, and there were floor to ceiling windows on both walls at the corner of the living room. Ray looked out; he could see the lake below, the forest around them, and blue sky stretching out to the horizon. 

"This is beautiful," he said. 

"The house, or the view?" 

"Both." 

"Thanks," Walter said. "It's mine." 

"I know—" 

"No, I mean I designed and built it. I'm an architect." 

Ray was stunned. Walter had made this? 

"Wow," was all he could manage. 

Walter showed him around the house. The kitchen and living room were at the center, and two wings stretched out from that center. To the west, Walter's bedroom and office. To the east, two more bedrooms and an empty room where Ray's boxes had been deposited. 

"You can choose whichever room you like. They both have en suites, but this middle one is bigger. This third room is yours, too. You can have an office, if you want, or set up some gym equipment, or have a place to read or a space to make art. I'm not really sure what you get up to when you're not in school, but you can do whatever you want to this room. It's up to you."

Ray smiled. "Thank you." He paused, looked at Walter. "I play baseball," he said. "Or I did, until I wrecked my knee. That was the end of last year. I'm completely healed, but I'll never make the majors. I like to run, and I like to go to the movies. I like movie theater popcorn and fireworks at the Fourth of July. Summer is my favorite season. I hate the cold. I like ice cream and my mom's apple crumble, and Italian and Chinese food the best. I take my coffee with milk. I sleep on my side and I wake up early." He smiled, a little crooked. "I just wanted you to know some things about me."

Walter smiled. "Thank you for that, Ray. You can always ask me if you want to know something, but let's see. I'm an only child. I sleep on my back, and I take my coffee black with two sugars. I like to watch basketball and old westerns. Gary Cooper's my favorite. The cold doesn't bother me much, and I like snow. I read paperback mysteries and do the crossword."

"Thank you," Ray said softly. He took another step toward Walter. "I'm an only child, too." 

"Look at that. We got something in common." Walter reached out slowly, telegraphing his movements, and laid a hand on Ray's shoulder. Ray let him.  



	2. Subspace

  
Walter made lunch while Ray sat at the kitchen island and watched. 

"We are going to talk about rules," Walter said. "We will probably adjust or eliminate some of these rules as I see more of who you are and what you need, but some are non-negotiable. Please don't assume you know which are which. If you have a question about a rule or want to change something about it, let me know. I'll work with you wherever I can."

Walter served him a plate, and sat down across from him with his own lunch. 

"First thing's first: Once a week, we will have a session where I get you into subspace and then bring you back. That can take a while, and there will be significant aftercare, so don't plan anything afterwards. Do Friday nights work for you?" 

Ray poked at his salad. "I was thinking maybe we didn't need to do that."

"I see," Walter said. "Have you been taken to subspace before?" 

"Just once. When they did the test. I don't really remember it." 

"You were how old? Sixteen, seventeen?" 

"Seventeen." 

Walter nodded. He said, in a voice that reminded Ray strongly of his high school principal, "Do you remember learning in school that to be healthy, submissives need to be taken to subspace regularly?" 

"Yes, but—" 

"Do you know that your health and wellbeing are my number one priority?" 

"Yes, but—"

"Let me rephrase my initial question," Walter said. "At least once a week, you will have a mandatory sub session with me. If you need it more often, you will tell me, and we will work that out. For your mandatory weekly session, do Friday nights work for you?" 

Ray's cheeks burned. He couldn't look Walter in the face. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Great. Now, speaking of your health and wellbeing. I expect you to take care of yourself. Three meals a day, hydrate; if you feel unwell, tell me, and I will arrange a doctor's appointment. Do you need any daily medications?" 

"No. Just aspirin occasionally for a headache, and sometimes ibuprofen if my knee's acting up." 

"Anything more than that, I want to hear about it. I also expect you to be safe. Wear your seat belt, don't do anything dangerous, etc. This one's non-negotiable, and it's a big deal. If I decide you've done something to jeopardize your health or your life, it's going to be a serious punishment. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Walter nodded. "Good. The other big one's lying. I will be honest with you always, and I expect honesty in return. I will not be lied to, Ray, do you understand?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy. Everything else we can work with. I expect you to communicate with me. I expect you to be where you say you'll be. I expect you to use money responsibly. I expect you to do your homework and turn it in on time. I expect good grades. I expect you to keep your rooms clean. I expect you to treat me respectfully at all times. I will do the same for you. Is any of this unfair?"

"No, sir. Is that all?" 

"Yes, Ray, for the moment, that is all. Think you can handle it?" 

Ray smiled. "Yeah. I do." 

"Good boy," Walter said, smiling fondly, and Ray felt himself blush. 

***

Walter took him to dinner that night, a nice Italian place in the city. At the end, the waiter brought out a wedge of chocolate cake with thick icing and a single burning candle on top.

“Happy birthday, Ray,” Walter said.

Ray smiled and blew out the candle. He made the same wish.

***

The next day was Friday, and Ray was hoping, because it was the first Friday of their contract, that maybe Walter wouldn’t insist on their sub session, but he was freshly showered and waiting on his first cup of coffee to percolate when Walter came into the kitchen and said, “You can do what you like during the day, but you’ll be home to eat at five thirty. We’re starting your session at six.”

Ray deflated a bit. He poured his coffee, and carefully added milk. “I’m just settling in …”

“And tonight, you can settle into this. This is how life’s gonna be from now on. I wouldn’t be doing you any favors by postponing.”

Ray took a drink of his coffee. His eyes were on the floor.

“Indicate that you heard and understood me, please,” Walter said.

“Yes, sir,” Ray said quietly.

“Thank you.”

They assembled breakfast, moving around each other without speaking. Once they were both at the table, they ate for a few minutes in silence. Then Walter put down his fork and spoke.

“Since you haven’t done this before, I expect you don’t have a safeword. I want you to think of one by tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will always respond to your safeword—any time you use it—so you’re on the honor system. I’m trusting you to only use it when you need it.”

The resistance Ray felt burning behind his breastbone extinguished. Ray had thought of disrupting the process, begging off, maybe even using his safeword to do it. But Walter trusted him, and he couldn’t betray that trust just because he was uncomfortable.

“Yes, sir,” he said. 

***

Ray ran a few errands during the day. When he came back home, he walked around the property for a good long while, walking the pine needle-covered paths through the trees and down to the lake. It was beautiful, and quiet, and it did a great deal to calm him.

He was in the kitchen at five when Walter came out of his office. 

“Can I help you with dinner?” he asked.

“Not tonight,” Walter said. He washed his hands, and began bringing things out of the fridge. “Tell me about your day.”

Ray talked while Walter worked. After a while, Walter came to the table with two plates of fruit, cheese, and cocktail crackers. He gave Ray a big glass of water.

“It’s best to eat light before your sessions,” he said. “And hydrate. I’ll eat what you eat, even though it’s not really my favorite.”

“Thanks,” Ray said. He studied his plate. This was a meal he would have made himself; he liked to eat light, and he didn’t eat red meat or too much fat or processed food. But right now, he felt no hunger; he mostly felt numb. Walter was watching him, though, and he knew more about this business than Ray did, so Ray forced himself to put some food in his stomach.

When they’d finished eating, Walter started cleaning up. 

“Go put on something comfortable,” he said.

Ray looked down at his polo and jeans. “I’m comfortable.”

“No. Sweats or pajamas, something like that.”

Ray went down the hall to change. He put on some light sweatpants and a t-shirt, kept his feet bare. When he walked back into the main hub of the house, Walter was waiting for him.

“Come on,” he said, and started down the other hallway. Ray followed him into his bedroom. Walter had turned the lamps on, not the overhead, and the light was low and yellow. Ray had only seen Walter’s room once, briefly, during the tour of the house when he’d moved in, but he had good eyes and a good memory, and he noticed that there was a medium-sized train case sitting on the trunk at the end of the bed. It was closed, and butterflies rioted in his stomach when he tried to imagine what was in there.

“Relax,” Walter said, which was impossible. “Do you have a safeword for me?”

He hadn’t been able to think of one. He looked at Walter, the turquoise and silver rings adorning several of his fingers.

“Um, silver,” he said.

“Okay. Say _silver_ , and we stop what we’re doing completely, no questions asked. You can also tell me if you need a break, or if you want to slow down, but try to stay in the moment, stay with me. If you ask me to stop, I’ll ask you for your safeword to verify.”

“Okay.”

“Rules for tonight. You have not decided whether you want sex to come into these sessions; until you do, I promise I won’t do anything of a sexual nature. There will occasionally be discomfort or even pain in some of these sessions, but tonight there won’t be. I will be touching you, though. I need you to let me.”

Ray swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

“I need you to let me be in control during these sessions, even more than I am any other time. You need to obey. You need to submit. If you fight me, it will take longer, and it’ll hurt. You know how colts are broken? That is not what we’re doing here, unless you fight me, and then I’ll have to.”

Ray felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Okay,” he whispered.

Walter nodded. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you. Are you ready to begin?”

He wasn’t. He wouldn’t ever be. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Take off your shirt, and sit down on the bed.”

Ray’s hands were shaking, but he did as he was told. Walter took his shirt, folded it, and sat it on the trunk at the foot of the bed, behind the train case. Ray faced front, focusing on the shadows the low light cast as it was broken against the furniture in Walter’s room. He heard the train case open, and he felt his jaw jerk. His oral tic was always more active when he was nervous.

Walter came over to him. There was something in his hand, something small and black. Ray couldn’t make it out. 

“Close your eyes.”

Ray closed his eyes, and he felt something soft, smooth tickle his cheek. Settle over his eyes. He stiffened as Walter tied the blindfold in place.

“No,” he said.

Walter was quiet for a moment. Then, gently, “Do you remember your safeword?”

“Yes. I—”

“Are you going to use your safeword?”

Ray’s jaw jerked. He swallowed. Shook his head. “No.”

“All right, then. Just relax. I want you to put your arms down by your sides, palms flat on the bed.” Ray moved his arms like Walter had asked. “Good boy. You’re going to keep them like that. I will remind you if you forget. I am not going to punish you in any way during tonight’s session; I’ll just keep reminding you if you forget, keep putting you back into position. As many times as it takes.” A beat. “Please indicate that you heard and understood me. You can just nod, if you need to; I know it can be hard to talk during these sessions.”

Ray nodded. Walter’s fingers slid through his hair, a gentle touch. “Good boy. You’re doing well, but we need to do something to calm you down a little. Breathe in for me.” Ray breathed in slowly. He counted the seconds: one, two, three four. “Now hold your breath.” One, two, three, four. “Exhale.” One, two, three, four. “Hold it.” One, two, three, four.

They repeated the exercise several times, and Ray was surprised as hell when it was over and he found that he’d actually calmed down quite a bit.

“Good boy,” Walter said. “Remember your hands. Stay still; I’m going to touch you, but I’m not going to hurt you, remember that.”

Ray nodded. He waited, in the dark. He felt Walter move, felt him leave. Heard him moving things inside the train case. Felt him come back, his warmth and presence, the warm spice note of his cologne.

“Easy,” Walter said softly, and Ray felt something soft, tickling, run down his arm. He jerked up, his hand coming up off the bed, and Walter said, “Put your arm down. Hand flat on the bed.”

He waited until Ray was back in position, and then he touched him again, the tickling thing running across his shoulderblades. Ray didn’t like it. He tried to ground himself. He was fine. He was safe. It didn’t hurt; he just needed to calm down. He wanted the blindfold off. He hated that he couldn’t see what was going on. It felt the same as having his hands tied. But they were as good as tied, too; he had to keep them in a position where they were useless to him.

The tickling thing went away. 

“Where are you, Ray?” Walter asked. 

“In your bedroom.”

“That’s not what I meant. How do you feel?”

“I—frustrated. I want the blindfold off. I want to move.”

“No.”

Ray gritted his teeth. Walter petted his hair. “Easy, kid. Just relax, okay? Trust me.”

Ray tried to relax. He tried the breathing exercise again, and that helped. Walter didn’t touch him until his posture softened a little, and then he ran something cool down Ray’s chest. He moved it slowly, but Ray couldn’t tell what it was. It was some sort of implement; he felt like he could feel small pricks, but they didn’t hurt. What they did do was raise up goose pimples everywhere it touched. Ray felt like it was waking up individual cells. Once Walter had moved it all the way from his collarbone to the waistband of his sweatpants, he dragged it back up, the little teeth pressing so gently into Ray’s flesh. Up, and then back down. Up, and then back down. It was mesmerizing. Ray felt his breathing slow. He could hear the sound of his own pulse throbbing inside his ears. Up, down. Up, down. Ray felt weightless, like he was floating on his back in the ocean. The ocean held you. Carried you. Like you weighed nothing. An individual drop of water would run down your finger, disappear, but the whole ocean …? It was one of the most powerful forces on earth.

Ray let it carry him.

The next thing he realized, Walter was laying him down on his side on the bed, and tucking a thick afghan around him. Ray’s head swam.

His words slurred. “What happened?”

He tried to sit up, and was so dizzy that he immediately fell back to the bed. Walter adjusted the pillow beneath his head, the blanket over his shoulder. “Easy, kid.”

“What—?”

Walter sat down beside him. He petted Ray’s hair. “I took you to subspace, Ray. You’re okay. You’re just coming down. Everything’s okay.”

Walter was petting his hair. It felt really nice. He wanted to be touched. He wanted to be touched everywhere, forever.

“Will—will you get in bed with me?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Walter lay down beside him, his hand on Ray’s arm but space between them. That wouldn’t do.

“No,” Ray slurred. “Closer. Hold me.”

Walter pulled him close, Ray’s face pressed against his chest, Walter’s arm around his shoulders, like Ray was a baby bird tucked and safe under its parent’s wing. Ray closed his eyes. He breathed.

Maybe this sub thing wasn’t so bad.  



	3. Punishment

  
Ray woke late the next morning. He was still in Walter's bed, and he was alone. He sat up slowly, but last night's dizziness was gone; in fact, he felt great. He pulled his shirt on and walked out to the kitchen. 

"Mornin'," Walter said. He studied Ray over his coffee. "How are you feeling this morning?" 

"I feel amazing, actually." He bit his lip. "Thanks. I'm sorry I was—I don't know, so resistant, I guess. I should have trusted you." 

"I'm happy to hear that, Ray, but I didn't expect a seamless transition. There's gonna be bumps in the road. Don't be too hard on yourself." 

Ray bowed his head. "Thank you." 

"No problem, honey. I've got your back."

***

Ray spent the weekend moving in. He'd chosen the larger room, not because it was larger, but because it was in the middle with the spare room on the end, and it felt kind of cozy, having the far end of the house to himself. He unpacked his boxes and set up the bedroom how he liked it. He wasn't sure what to do with the spare room, but he was happy to have it. 

Walter let him move around the house as he wanted. He checked in on him occasionally, and they had meals together, but the tether was long and loose. 

On Monday, Ray went for a run early. By the time he was back and out of the shower, Walter was having breakfast. 

"Good morning," he said. "Eat something, then tell me what you're doing today." 

Ray talked as he poured his coffee and prepared some yogurt with fruit and granola. "I have a class at one thirty, but then I should be home right after. No later than three." 

"I want you to write down your schedule for the rest of the month for me." 

Ray shrugged. "I just have one summer session class, Mondays and Wednesdays, and—" Walter was giving him a hard look. Ray flushed. "—and you asked me to write it down, so I will do that for you right after breakfast, sir." 

"Good. Thank you." 

Ray glanced at the clock. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." 

"What about your schedule? Do you not go into an office for work, or …?" 

"I don't have a set schedule. I do have an office, secretary and all, but I do a lot of work at home and on site. I'll try to keep you aware of when I'll be out and when I'll be home." 

"Oh," Ray said. "Um, thanks. That's really cool, that you can do that with your work." 

Walter shrugged. "It took a lot of hard work to get to this place. Do good in school, you'll get to a good place, too." 

***

Ray went to class as scheduled, but he was not home on time. He walked in the door after six, exhausted and annoyed. 

Walter was waiting for him. He looked a bit raw. "Goddammit, Ray, I was about to start calling hospitals! You were supposed to be here three hours ago! Where the hell have you been?" 

"My car broke down. I had to have it towed to a garage, then wait for a rental…" 

"Why the hell didn't you call me?" 

"I haven't put your number in my phone yet. It's stupid, and I should have—" 

"What about your papers?" Walter asked. 

Ray blinked. "What?" 

"Your sub papers, which you are legally required to have on your person any time you're outside this house. Did you have them with you?" 

"Yeah, of course, they're in my wallet—" 

"My full contact information is on there, Ray. Did you not think to look there for my number?" 

Ray flushed. "No," he said weakly. "No, I didn't think of that at all. I'm sorry—" 

"Or you could've looked up the number. I'm in the Yellow Pages, Ray, and you can just Google my name and my business number will come up. You didn't think of that, either?" 

"No." 

Walter scrubbed a hand across his face. "Raymond, I have to be honest with you: I am not happy about this at all. How do you think I should handle this?" 

Ray's stomach cramped. "Handle it? There's nothing to handle; I just made a mistake." 

Walter took in a slow breath. "You not having my number in your phone is not a mistake. You should have taken care of that by now. And I need to be able to trust that you'll be where you say you'll be—" 

"I'm sorry! It was a freak thing; it won't happen again." 

Walter's expression was grave. "At the very least, you need a reminder to be more prepared and responsible." 

Ray knew what that meant, but he didn't like it. "Walter, please. I messed up. I'm sorry." 

"That's not good enough, boy. When you get your car back, you've got a six o'clock curfew for one week. That means you are in this house at six p.m. come hell or high water. And right now, I am going to give you a spanking for your irresponsibility and poor judgment."

Ray opened his mouth to speak. He wasn't sure what he was going to say—he'd argue his innocence, maybe, or plead with Walter—but before he could get a word out, Walter said, "If I hear a word out of that mouth that isn't _yes, sir_ , I'm gonna whip your ass with a belt instead of using my hand." 

Ray swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir." 

"That's better. My room, now. Let's go." 

Ray followed a few steps behind him, dread cramping his gut. Walter reached his bedroom and turned on the lamps, then stood by the bed looking at Ray with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"When did your folks stop spanking you?" he asked. 

"I don't know. Um, in middle school, I guess? They hardly ever … I mean, I was a good kid, so they didn't …" 

Walter nodded. "Okay. Well, I'd like to go easy on you since you ain't had your backside tanned in almost a decade, and because it's your first punishment from me, but that wouldn't do you any good. You are going to be thoroughly spanked, and it is going to hurt. You can do all the yelling and crying you want; you can kick your legs a little, and grab onto my pants leg or the bedspread, whatever you need to do. What I will not tolerate is a lot of squirming, you cursing at me, or you trying to run off in the middle of your punishment. Any of that, and things will get a lot worse for you. This goes for any time I beat that butt, understood?"

Ray's lip trembled. "Yes, sir," he rasped. 

"All right," Walter said. He sat down on the bed, feet on the floor, legs spread apart. "You come here, now." 

Ray walked over to him. His jaw jerked. 

"Take down your britches and your underwear, and I'll help you lay across my lap." 

Ray's sinuses burned. He felt tears coming to his eyes and he set his jaw and swallowed that raw, weak feeling down. _You are not going to do that. You are not going to cry._ His fingers felt stiff, clumsy, but slowly he bared himself, pushing his jeans and boxers down past his knees, and he bent over Walter's lap. Walter helped position him, and soon he had his head down, his face in the comforter, and his bare butt up, his legs hanging off Walter's knee, toes scraping the floor. 

Walter rested his left hand on Ray's back, pinning him in place. With his right, he gently stroked Ray's backside. It was intimate, but it felt nice, and Ray was so caught off guard that he froze, his muscles tensing. 

"Relax, kid," Walter said. "Breathe." 

Ray breathed. He tried to relax so that at least he wasn't tightrope taut, and he managed it, a little. 

"Good boy," Walter said. "I'm going to start now. Just take your medicine, and think about why you're in this position to begin with." 

Ray whimpered. Walter patted his back for a moment, then set that hand back to hold him down. There was a pause, and then Ray felt Walter's hand leave his backside. He squeezed his eyes closed in anticipation. He tried to prepare for the pain. 

He couldn't. Walter swung his hand down on Ray's backside, and a sharp, stinging pain exploded over his flesh. He yelped and squirmed, desperate to get away. 

"Lay back down," Walter said. His voice was quiet but his tone was stern. "I will not remind you of the rules again. Next time, consequences." 

"I'm sorry," Ray moaned, and he got back in position. He buried his face in the mattress, balling the comforter in his fists as another harsh smack found his backside. And another. Walter took up a regular, mid-tempo rhythm, slapping his hand down all over Ray's presented ass and thighs. At first the pain was sharp, like being stung by a hundred bees at once, but the longer it went on, the deeper the pain sank into the muscle, a bruise-y ache. It wasn't long until he started crying. He knew it was childish. He also knew this hurt, and he hated it, and he wanted to stop. He sobbed into the mattress, and Walter kept on spanking him. The pain kept coming, until long after Ray had gone limp over Walter's knee, just taking it, just receiving, a vessel for the pain. He thought of everything he'd done wrong, all the stupid decisions he'd made that afternoon. All the pain he'd caused Walter. Walter had been so scared for him that he was going to start calling hospitals to look for him. How awful. What an awful thing to do to someone who cared for him, who looked after him and protected him. He deserved this. He had been thoughtless and selfish and irresponsible, and he absolutely deserved every single smack across his burning backside. 

Ray was still contemplating this when he realized the spanking had stopped. Walter was rubbing his back, speaking to him quietly. It took him a while to focus enough to hear what he was saying. 

"—such a good boy. You took that so well. I'm so proud of you. Do you think you can stand up for me?" 

Ray let Walter help him to his feet. 

"I'm going to help you get undressed," Walter said, and he did. Then he helped him lay facedown on the bed. He stroked Ray's hair for a moment before saying, "I'll be right back." 

Ray sank down into the plush covers and pillows supporting him. He felt like he'd just been pulled from a car accident: Dazed, injured, detached. He heard Walter come back in the room, felt his weight dip the mattress. Then he felt Walter's hand gently rubbing something cool and wet into his sore flesh. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"Some cream. It'll help you feel better, make sure the lasting damage isn't too bad. Don't want you with a chapped ass, do we?" 

"My dad never did that," he mumbled. 

"I hope he never spanked you like that, either, Ray. I gave you a grownup spanking," Walter said. He set the cream on the bedside table, sat back on the bed. "Do you want some water? Do you want to be held? Or left alone? This part's up to you; I'll never make you accept affection from me, especially not after I punish you. Tell me what you want." 

Ray felt small, vulnerable. Put in his place. "Will you hold me? Like Friday?" 

"Of course I will," Walter said. He lay down on his back beside him, helped Ray crawl up into his arms. Ray snuggled in, held on tight. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"It's over," Walter said. "Forgiven. That's the nice thing about this kind of punishment: It pays your penance. I'm not going to hold it over your head. I'm not going to be passive aggressive about it. You take the punishment, and your slate's wiped clean." 

"Did they teach you that when you did your dominant training apprenticeship thing?" 

"Actually, they did. How was my recitation?" 

"C-plus." 

"Ouch," Walter said with an exaggerated wince. "Harsh. I guess I'll forgive you, though, seeing as I just blistered your bottom for you." 

Ray cuddled against him. He listened to Walter's heart beating. "I wish they did that for us." 

"What's that, honey?" 

"Sub training."

Walter laughed. "This is it, Ray. You're doing it." 

"Huh?" 

"Your first dom _is_ sub training. I'm teaching you every day. You don't know it, I imagine, but by the time our contract runs out, you're going to be a very different submissive. You're not going to change so much as a person, but part of my job is to gently mould you into a good sub. You're getting away with a lot of stuff now that I will not tolerate in nine month's time."

Ray's cheeks burned. "Like what?" 

"Like backtalk, for one. You can get awful mouthy sometimes. And a lot of times, I have to ask you to do something more than once. You'll question me, or explain why it doesn't need to be done, instead of obeying." He noticed the hang dog expression on Ray's face, and added, "You're a good boy, Ray. I couldn't be happier with you. But you're learning. You can't expect to just know everything right off, can you?" 

"No, I guess not." 

Walter leaned down, kissed his forehead. Ray found himself leaning into the kiss. 

"Rest, honey," Walter said, and Ray closed his eyes, cuddled in, and did just that.  



	4. The Kiss

  
_Three and a Half Years Ago_

Ray’s father drove him to the determination clinic early in the morning. Ray was taking off school to have his test done, which normally his father didn’t allow, but he was stressed about this, Ray could tell. 

“We’ll love you either way,” his mother had said before they left, hugging him longer and harder than usual.

Ray’s stomach was in knots, and not just because he hadn’t been allowed to eat since midnight the night before. His parents had decided to wait until he was seventeen to get the test, and he had a summer birthday, so he was almost eighteen. It was the eleventh hour, really. For this reason, most of the guys he was at school with had already gotten their results, and there wasn’t really a pattern that he could distinguish, no matter what they said about traditional dominant and submissive characteristics. Some of the big guys on the baseball team with him were dominants, but some of them were submissives. The ninety-eight pound math nerd the bigger guys routinely terrorized had come back a dominant, and the quarterback of the football team was a submissive. Ray knew his father wanted him to be a dominant. Ray himself only knew that he would prefer to be in charge of his own life; he didn’t want someone to own him. He didn’t want to have to defer to someone for the rest of his life. He guessed that meant he wanted to be a dominant, even if the actual lifestyle didn’t appeal to him. 

The clinic looked like a normal doctor’s office. Ray checked in at the desk, and soon afterwards, they called him back. Ray’s father stayed in the waiting room; he would need a driver when the test was over.

“Strip down to your underwear, and put on this gown,” the nurse said, and then shut Ray in an exam room by himself. He changed quickly, and then sat nervously on the exam table.

After a little while, the nurse returned on the heels of the determination expert. It was a woman, black hair swept up in a bun, manicure dark and perfect. She was a dominant. Ray couldn’t tell by looking; he knew from his health textbook, which explained the determination process.

“Hi there, Raymond,” the determination expert said, extending a hand for him to shake. He did. “I’m Dr. Lee. We’re ready to start your test. Do you have any questions before we begin?” He shook his head. “Great. Katie here is going to give you some medication. It may make you feel a little weird, but you’re safe here. Once you go home, you can go to sleep, and you’ll be back to normal when you wake up. Ready?”

“Sure.”

The nurse swabbed his arm, then set up an IV cannula. She injected a shot of saline, a dose of the medication—it burned—and then another syringe full of saline. 

It hit Ray all at once, thirty seconds later. He felt drugged, detached; his limbs felt rubbery, odd, like maybe they were someone else’s, like maybe they were fake. He made a fist and couldn’t feel his fingers moving. He started to feel slow, like time had stretched out. He could hear his breathing, and it was slowing down.

“How’re we doing, Ray?” Dr. Lee asked.

He blinked. It took ages. “I—weird.”

“I told you. Okay, we’re going to do the test now. It only takes a minute. Relax.”

He felt very, very relaxed. If he relaxed any more, he might go through a state change and become a liquid. Dr. Lee came close to him. She held his arm, put her other hand on the back of his head.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

Ray closed his eyes. His head swam.

“Good boy. I want you to lean back, let me take your weight. I’m not going to let you fall, I promise.”

Ray started to lean back, going slowly because he was disoriented and he didn’t want to fall. The next thing he knew, he was waking up.

Dr. Lee was still beside him, smiling down at him. He was flat on his back on the exam table. He still felt detached and slow, and waking up felt like pulling himself out of the water.

“What happened?” he slurred.

“We did the test,” she said. “You rest here for a little while. Katie’s going to come help you get dressed, and then she’ll get a wheelchair and take you up front so your dad can take you home.” 

Ray had a question he wanted to ask her—it was something very important—but he’d forgotten what it was. The test. There had been a test.

“Did I pass?” he asked.

Dr. Lee smiled. She patted his arm. 

“You did wonderfully,” she said.

Half an hour later, he was in the passenger’s seat of his father’s car, falling asleep against the window as his father drove him home. That was the last thing he remembered until the next morning, when he woke up in his bed at home. He felt better. Fine. Normal. There was a bandaid over the place in his arm where the cannula had been, but not another mark on him. He got dressed and started down the stairs.

Halfway down, he heard his parents arguing, and he stopped his descent.

“You _have to_ be positive about this,” his mother said. “He’s your son. You have to love him no matter what.”

“That’s not—it’s not even a question of that, Maureen. I’m just—I’m scared for him. His future.”

“He’ll be just fine. He’s a smart boy, and a hard worker, and resilient. He can do this.”

Ray walked down the stairs. His parents turned to look at him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” his mother asked.

“Am I a submissive?”

“Why don’t—why don’t you come into the living room, and we’ll talk about it?”

“Just tell me.”

“Yes,” his father said. “It’s just a change of plans, Raymond. That’s all. Just a change of plans.”

And he hugged him.

_Present Day_

The next day, Ray expected to be marked up from the spanking, but he just had a few faint bruises at his seat, and that was all. He could only feel it when he sat down, and even then, it wasn't that bad. He thought about what Walter had said about a clean slate, and while he definitely wasn't looking forward to future spankings, he now knew that he could handle them. 

Walter went into the office in the morning, and Ray did his homework from yesterday’s class. Then he went into the empty room for a while, and sat in the middle of the floor, looking at the unpainted, red wood walls. He tried to imagine bookcases in there, or a treadmill. He thought about the furniture he could put in there, rearranged it in his mind. Nothing stuck. Nothing looked right. He sighed and left, went to change for a run.

Walter got back to find Ray on the living room couch, still in his running clothes. He had one leg stretched out on the coffee table, and a bag of ice on his thigh.

“You all right there, Raymond?” Walter asked.

“I twinged a muscle. I should’ve stretched more before I started running.”

Walter put his things down, and approached the couch. “Can I give it a try?”

Ray handed him the ice. Walter shook his head, and put the ice on the coffee table. He gently lifted Ray’s foot, then sat down with it on his lap.

“Relax,” he said.

Ray leaned back into the couch pillows. Walter leaned forward. He placed his hands on either side of Ray’s thigh, and then, with firm pressure, began to massage the muscles in his leg. He worked slowly up from Ray’s knee, thumbs and the heel of his hand applying more pressure around the tight areas. He worked his way up to Ray’s hip, his hands disappearing under Ray’s shorts, and Ray found his breathing getting shallow. He wet his lips, unthinking, and watched the look of concentration on Walter’s face as he worked back down to Ray’s knee, and then back up to his hip again. It felt good. It felt really good, and Ray found himself thinking, like he had twice in Walter’s bed, that he wanted Walter to touch him. It was different this time, though. He wanted something different.

“How’s that feel?”

Ray snapped out of it, flushing. “Huh?”

Walter looked at him. “Does it feel better?”

“Oh. Um, yeah. Loads. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kid. Go take a hot shower, make you feel better.”

Ray took a cold shower, instead.

When he was dry and dressed, Ray walked into the main area of the house to find Walter in the kitchen, peering into the refrigerator.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” he asked. “I can order something, or we could go out. I’ve got some chicken, but I’m not sure what to do with it.”

He was bent over a bit, his jeans hugging the curve of his ass. Ray’s cold shower wasn’t worth a damn thing. He walked up to him, unsure of his course of action, but desperate to be close. When Walter closed the refrigerator door and turned around, Ray realized he was standing way too close, and he took a step back. He searched Walter’s face; his expression was soft, fond, even. Fuck it. Ray moved back into his step, backing him up against the fridge.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Walter said softly.

Ray felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I—fuck.”

Ray stopped. He pulled back. 

Walter's brow creased. "What's the matter?" 

"I … I want to kiss you."

"That doesn't sound like a problem to me, Ray." 

He chewed his lip. "Am I … am I allowed? Do I need to ask for permission? Or—" 

Walter chuckled. "No, honey. You don't have to ask for permission. You can kiss me anytime you want." Ray hesitated. "Come here." 

Ray took a step toward him. They were close again. Walter slid his hands around Ray's waist, pulled him in closer. They were breaths apart. Ray's heart beat faster. 

"Do you want to kiss me, Ray?" Walter asked softly. Ray nodded. "So kiss me." 

Hesitantly, Ray pressed his lips to Walter's. The kiss was soft, warm. It felt nice. Ray closed his eyes, leaned into the embrace, kissed him deeper. It was easy, sweet, but with a bite of passion just under the surface. Ray wrapped his arms around Walter's neck, and kissed him _deep_. 

They broke off gradually, after a long time. Ray held onto Walter, who pressed soft kisses to the corner of Ray's mouth, to his cheek and jaw. They shared the same breath. Ray rested his forehead against Walter's, and they just stayed like that for a long time, holding each other. 

"Sweet boy," Walter whispered. "Was that what you wanted?" 

"Yes," Ray whispered. "And more." 

"Good more?" 

" _Great_ more." 

Walter chuckled. "Well, all right. That's good, honey. That's real good." 

He kissed him again, turning them, pressing Ray’s back to the fridge. Ray pulled him in close. Held on.  



	5. Getting Naked

  
Walter ordered in, and they sat on the couch together with the television on while they waited. There was nothing good on, so Walter left it on an old movie just to stop flipping. 

At first, they sat together, each on their own couch cushion. Slowly, Ray scooted closer to Walter; after about ten minutes, they were shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Ray watched Walter watching the television, and he thought maybe he was ignoring him, until Walter put his hand on Ray's thigh, fingers rubbing lightly below the inner seam of his jeans. Ray gasped, and Walter's mouth curled into a grin. 

Two could play at that game. 

Slowly, Ray moved his hand onto Walter's thigh, palm flat. He ran his hand up from Walter's knee to his groin, and then he brushed against Walter's fly with the heel of his hand. 

"Be careful," Walter said. 

"Huh?" 

"You know what you're doing, boy?" 

Ray blushed. "I'm not a virgin." 

"I didn't say you were. I asked if you knew what you were doing." 

Ray chewed his lip. He felt his confidence bleeding away. Walter looked at him. He grabbed one of the couch's throw pillows, and tossed it on the ground between his feet. 

"There," he said. "Kneel." 

Ray's chest was tight, but the look Walter was giving him left no room for argument. Ray pulled himself off the couch, trying to ignore his shaking hands, and knelt between Walter's legs. 

Walter unbuttoned his fly, then slowly pulled down the zipper. He slid his fingers through Ray's hair, held onto him. 

"If you don't want to do something, tell me. You been with guys before?" 

"Um, I … a couple. Just fooling around, though. We never had _sex_ sex." 

"You know how to give head?" 

He blushed. "No." 

"All right, well, it's time to learn. Three things: Try not to use your teeth. You don't have to swallow the whole thing; just take what you can. And you're allowed to use your hands." Ray was quiet a moment too long. "Understand?" 

He nodded. 

"Out loud, please." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy." He pulled his cock loose. "Get to work."

Ray looked at it. He wasn't sure of where to start, but then Walter's hand on his head drew him forward so that his nose was in Walter's crotch. Message received. Ray opened his mouth, and took a couple inches of Walter's cock in. It tasted like him, salty and loamy and faintly sweet. He ran his tongue slowly up the underside, the big vein, and Walter sighed. 

"Good boy, baby. Come on, honey, you can do this." 

Ray sucked. He used his hand at the base, stroking upwards, and he sucked and he used his tongue to tease the head. Walter groaned, and he bucked into Ray's mouth, just a little. 

"You're doing such a good job, sweetheart. Such a smart boy; you learn quick, don'tcha?" 

Ray felt his cheeks heat, but he also felt a warmth in his chest. He liked Walter's praise; he wanted it. He wanted to pull more groans out of Walter's throat, too, wanted to make him come. Walter had such control over his body; Ray wanted to show that he wasn't powerless. He could influence Walter, too, even if he did it from his knees. So he gave it his all, pumping Walter's shaft with his fist while he sucked the head, teasing the vein and the slit with his tongue. Walter groaned, and then he shuddered, and he came in Ray's mouth, which was abrupt and overwhelming, but Ray collected himself, breathed through his nose and swallowed it down. 

"Fuck me, Raymond, that's a helluva blowjob for your first time. Come here." 

Walter more pulled Ray into his lap than Ray got up there himself. Walter kissed him, messy and hot, his hand tightening in Ray's hair. 

"You're such a good boy for me," Walter purred. "Aren't you?" 

Ray blushed. He was opening his mouth to answer when the doorbell rang. 

Walter cursed. It took Ray a minute to remember the Chinese food. Walter patted his thigh. "All right, baby, I hate to cut this short, but I need you to hop off me now." 

Ray slid off Walter's lap and onto the couch. Walter tucked his cock back into his pants, buttoned up, and went to pay the delivery guy. 

***

They ate dinner like it was nothing, like Ray hadn’t just sucked Walter off for the first time. Ray had thought maybe they’d wait, or at least talk about what had happened, but Walter just asked him about his day and about school, how he was doing and whether he’d done his homework for tomorrow. 

They cleaned up together, and afterwards Ray hung a step behind Walter, thinking he was going to the couch. Had he done something wrong? But then Walter stopped, nodded his head down the hall to his bedroom, and said, "You comin'?" 

In Walter's bedroom, Ray felt unsure of himself, nervous. He liked Walter. He liked kissing him, and he'd liked sucking his cock. But he'd never had intercourse with a man, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that, with Walter or with anybody. 

Like Walter had read his mind, he said, "You don't have to do anything with me you don't want to. I know you've never had real sex with a man; are you ready for that?" 

Ray blushed, shook his head. 

"That's okay," Walter said gently. "We won't until you want to. The stuff we did this evening, did you like it?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. You wanna do some more of it?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"This is not like our sessions," Walter said. "You don't have to use a safeword. If you don't want to do something, tell me, and we'll stop. Though it might be better if you told me, 'I want to try something else' or, 'I want to stop' instead of, 'I don't like this,' so I know more about how you're feeling." He looked at Ray. "You're analytical. You like to know how things work, and you like to know where the exits are. With a different sub, I might not explain everything so much, but with you, I thought …" 

"I like it when you explain things to me." 

"Then I'll keep doing it. I want you to take your clothes off and get on the bed." 

Ray bit his lip. He hesitated a moment, then nodded, and started to undress. Walter watched him. Walter watched the flush in his cheeks, and he watched every inch of skin coming into view as Ray's clothes were removed. Ray didn't think he'd ever had anyone look at him like that. With a sense of ownership. 

He hated how much he liked it. 

Naked, he hesitated before the bed. "On my stomach, or my back?" 

"Good boy. I was wondering if you would catch that. You did perfectly. On your back." 

Ray lay down on his back in Walter's bed. Walter went to the bedside table, pulled a few things out of the top drawer, and then came to sit next to him. He ran his free hand lightly over Ray's abdomen. 

"God, but you're a beauty, aren't you?" 

Ray blushed, ducked his head. Walter tipped his chin up. "Thank me, honey." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Such a good boy," Walter purred, and warmth blossomed just behind Ray's breastbone. He could be good. He wanted to be good. He wanted Walter's approval badly. And he realized, all of a sudden, that this was not the first time he'd felt that way. It had been a different animal, but he'd spent most of his life trying to please other people. His parents, teachers, coaches. He liked being good, and he liked being recognized for it. 

Maybe there was more to this sub thing than he'd realized. 

Walter leaned down and kissed him, his mouth, his jaw, his chest. His long, loose hair tickled Ray's bare skin. 

"What are you going to do with me?" Ray asked breathlessly. 

"I'm gonna make you feel real good, honey." 

Ray closed his eyes. He could feel Walter kissing down his body, from his chest to his navel. He thought he'd go down further, but instead he sat up. Ray opened his eyes. Walter had a small device in his hand. It looked like a tuning fork, but way more expensive. The tines were covered in what looked like red suede, and the stem might have been chrome. 

"What is it?" 

"It's a toy," Walter said. He set it down on Ray's belly while he opened the cap on a small bottle of lubricant. He oiled his palm, then took Ray's cock in his fist, pumping him slowly. Ray gasped, but before he could get into it, Walter pulled his hand back, wiped it on a small towel. 

He picked up the tuning fork. There were buttons on the stem, and he pressed one, and the thing started to purr. 

Ray opened his mouth to ask some questions, but Walter shook his head and said, "Hush. You just lay back and enjoy this." 

Ray shut his mouth. He lay back in the pillows and waited. 

The tuning fork was purring. Walter held it by the stem and lightly laid the broad sides of the tines across the base of Ray's cock. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin. Now he understood what the purring was; the tines were _vibrating_. 

"Jesus," he whimpered. 

"I told you to be quiet," Walter said. "Don't make me tell you again." 

He ran the tines of the tuning fork down Ray's cock. Ray couldn't have spoken if you'd paid him; he was doing well enough just breathing. The sensation was incredible, unlike anything he'd ever felt but so striking and effective. He was painfully hard in about ten seconds. He grabbed onto the bedclothes because he was so stimulated he could barely stand it, but at the same time he never wanted it to end. But it did, and soon. Walter teased the head of his cock with the tuning fork, and Ray came immediately and hard, so hard he arched off the bed like it was an exorcism, and his vision blacked out for a second. 

He could hear Walter chuckling. Ray gulped in greedy breaths, and blinked until he could see straight. 

"You like that, sweetheart?" 

Ray blinked up at him. He had Ray's come on his shirt. Ray flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" 

"That's all right, Ray. But I asked you a question, and I expect an answer." 

"I, um—yes. Yes, sir. I liked it very much." 

"I thought you might. You wanna keep playing with it, or should I put it away until the next time you deserve a treat?" 

"Um, I want to keep playing with it," Ray said, "but I'm also a little afraid it'll kill me." 

Walter chuckled. "You're safe with me, kid, I promise. Did you know this toy has settings? Speed, type of vibration? I think there are twelve in all; do you think we can get through them all tonight?" 

Ray thought about it. He'd probably have a heart attack and die halfway through. 

"Yes, sir," he said. "Please, sir." 

Walter smiled. He tapped one of the buttons on the tuning fork's stem, and he went to work.  



	6. Dinner (and Dessert)

  
_Six Weeks Ago_

Ray sat in the passenger's seat of his father's car. There had been a problem with his bank account—it turned out to be an issue of improper data entry—and, as a minor, he'd required a parent's supervision. 

Now they sat parked in the bank's lot, and the way Ray's father was looking at him made him feel a lot younger than twenty. 

"Your birthday is next month," he said. Ray nodded. "We have to find you a dominant." 

Ray scrubbed his hand across his face. "Dad—" 

"There is no way around this, Raymond. We should have already taken care of this."

Ray's voice was strained. "I know, I just … I thought maybe I'd meet someone—" 

"And we've entertained that longer than we should have."

"You never liked that idea." 

"No, I didn't. Your dominant should not be your friend; they should not be your peer. They are there to teach you and protect you and keep you in line. You need someone older." Ray didn't respond. His father sighed. "Tomorrow we're going to a submissive agency. They'll interview you, and assign you the dominant best suited to your needs." 

Ray's sinuses burned. "No, please, I can't just—I can't just go with some _stranger_ because a computer thinks we'd be a good match." His voice broke. "Dad, please." 

Ray's father sighed. "Okay. Here's the compromise, and the only one I can offer you: We will go to the submissive agency. They will interview you. They will give you the twelve best candidates, and I will select the ones I think are best from that pool. You can meet them, and then give me your feedback, and then I will decide who gets your contract."

Ray hid his face. He wasn't able to keep from crying. "Okay." 

***

The interviewer at the sub agency had been kind and receptive, and Ray hoped that meant he'd listened. Looking at the stern faces in these dominant files, though, he was beginning to doubt that. 

"I asked you to stay out of my study while I'm doing this," his father said. 

"Yes, sir, but … it's just, it's my life." 

Ray's father looked at him for a long time. Finally, he relented. 

"One," he said. "You can pick out _one_ , subject to my final approval." 

Ray felt relief wash over him. "Thanks, Dad." 

Ray sat down with a handful of files. The first one was an Army colonel, the same service and rank as his father. The man's picture was off-putting; he was in full dress uniform, and scowling at the camera like he could turn it to stone. He was in his sixties, and his personal statement was all about order and discipline. 

Ray went through six more equally unappetizing files before opening the last one in his lap. He opened the folder slowly, expecting another angry face, but was pleasantly surprised to find a soft smile and kind eyes. Walter Crow Horse. He was 36, never married, owned his own business and his own property. His personal statement was short. 

_The burden of a dominant is not something I take lightly. There is no greater responsibility, save for raising a child. When you take a submissive into your care, you make yourself responsible for a life. A dominant is responsible for keeping their submissive healthy in every way. A good dominant makes sure every aspect of their submissive's life is balanced and in order. This relationship is like a marriage in that both partners are responsible to one another; in that it is an organic, changing thing; and in that, at the end of the day, the most crucial component is mutual respect._

Ray closed the file. He stood up, holding the file tightly, and walked to his father's desk. 

"Him," he said. "I want him." 

_Present Day_

They made it through all twelve settings. Ray woke the next morning aching, cuddled up next to Walter, who was stretching and blinking sleep from his eyes. 

"Hey," Ray said softly. 

"Hey yourself. How'd you sleep?" 

"Amazingly well." 

Walter chuckled. "Yeah, well, we did tucker you out a bit." 

Ray nuzzled his jaw. "Last night was … I liked it a lot." 

Walter ran his fingers through Ray's hair. "I liked it too, honey." He kissed him. "I got an early meeting, or I'd keep you here in bed. You don't have to get up, though; you can stay in here long as you want, provided you get to class on time." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"You're always welcome in this bed, honey," he said, and then went off to the shower. 

Ray lazed around for a couple minutes, but it really wasn't in his nature. He got up, made the bed, and then went to his own bathroom to get ready for the day. 

When he came out to the kitchen, Walter was putting in some bread to toast and sipping his coffee. 

"Thank you for making the bed," he said. 

"No problem." 

Walter gave him a look. "Try again." 

Ray flushed. "Um, you're welcome, sir." 

"Much better. When are you off school today?" 

"Two thirty. I'll be home before three." 

"Good. Do you know how to cook?" 

Ray blinked at the non sequitur. "Um, yes, a little?" 

Walter nodded. "Good. I want you to be in charge of dinner tonight. Don't stress yourself out; you don't need to do anything fancy. I don't like broccoli or turnips, and I don't do too good with dairy. Other than that, you're free to do what you like. You can use what's in the fridge; if you need something else, you're in charge of buying it. Use the credit card I gave you. I don't mind if you're later than three getting home; just remember that you're still on a six o'clock curfew."

"Yes, sir." 

Walter looked at him. "If this is too much responsibility, say so right now." 

"No, sir; I can handle it." 

"Good boy. I knew you could." He kissed him on his way out the door. 

***

Ray went to class. He listened to his professor, but truth be told, he was more than a little preoccupied with what he was going to make for dinner. 

_You're making too much out of this,_ he told himself. _This is a small test, not a big one._

After class, he went to the grocery store, wandering the aisles. His mother had taught him basic cooking skills, but truthfully, he didn't cook for himself often. He went through the list of things he could make. Salad. Scrambled eggs. Spaghetti—did he know how to make spaghetti? Yes. He was almost certain that he did. Feeling a rush of relief, he bought pasta, sauce, and the ingredients that he was pretty sure made meatballs. He bought a loaf of crusty bread and a tray of pre-made cupcakes, too. He knew the cupcakes didn't really match his theme, but Walter had a sweet tooth, and he was sure he didn't know how to bake. 

He got home around three forty-five. Walter wasn't home yet. He had over an hour until he had to start cooking. He did his homework, and then went for a run. 

It was a little after five when he got showered and dressed. He was in the kitchen assembling his ingredients when Walter came home. 

He took a look at Ray and smiled. "I can see you're taking this seriously. That's a good boy. You get something edible on the table before nine, and you'll get a treat." 

Ray smiled. Walter went to his office, and Ray started boiling water for the noodles and putting the meatballs together. 

That went okay. He _thought_ it did. But once he put the meatballs in the pan, they stopped being in ball form. They crumbled into a meaty mess. It looked more like he was making tacos. Shit. And by this time, his water was at a rolling boil, and he hadn't added the noodles yet. 

_This is a small test,_ he told himself again. _You can't mess this up._

He set the timer for the pasta and added the sauce to the meatballs. Then he set the table. Walter came out of his office, leaned his hip against the island. 

"Am I making you nervous, being in here while you're cooking?" 

He was. 

"No, sir," Ray said. "Almost ready." 

"All right, then," Walter said. He had a beer and watched Ray fret over the stove. 

It ended up being spaghetti and meat sauce, but it was okay. The bread was good, and the cupcakes turned out to be good, too. Walter helped him get the kitchen cleaned up. 

"You did an excellent job tonight, Ray," he said. "I'm proud of you." 

Ray felt his chest fill up with warmth. His cheeks, too. "Thank you, sir." 

"I believe I promised you a treat, didn't I?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Come on, then," Walter said, and Ray followed him down the hall to his bedroom. 

"Undress and lay down on the bed on your stomach." 

Ray obeyed. Walter picked some things out of the bedside table. 

"I know you're not ready for intercourse, Ray, but can I put my fingers inside you?" 

"Um …" 

"If it's a no, say no. You ever been touched like that before?" 

He hadn't. He hadn't even had a prostate exam yet. But he figured it was going to happen eventually, Walter breaching him, and he might as well get it over with. 

"No, sir. But it's … it's okay. Just your fingers?" 

"I promise. I will get your permission before I use anything else, I swear. Try to relax. I think you'll like this." 

Ray hugged a pillow, and tried to relax. He heard Walter moving around behind him, snapping open the cap on the lube. Then he felt Walter's hands on him, tickling the back of his thighs, gently squeezing his ass. Then Walter's fingers, cool and slick, massaging his perineum. Ray let out a gasp, and ground himself down into the mattress; he'd never been touched like that, and it woke his body up in a way it had never been woken before. 

Walter patted his backside. "Easy, kid. Take it easy." 

Ray panted into his pillow. Walter’s fingers traveled north, circling the nerve-rich muscle of his hole. Despite his earlier misgivings, he was now desperate to get the show on the road. He pressed back against Walter's fingers, and Walter rewarded him by slowly worming one inside him. It was a little uncomfortable, but not painful like Ray had imagined. Walter began to move it inside him, simulating sex, and it felt nice, but not enough. Soon enough, though, Walter added a second finger, and Ray felt himself stretch and he felt an unfamiliar fullness, and he liked it enough that his pleasure far outshone the discomfort. Walter fucked him on his fingers, and he liked that, too, the rhythm, the sensitive tissue being stimulated for the first time, and the bundle of nerves beneath his perineum, which lit Ray up with pleasure every time Walter rubbed against it. Ray whined and thrust back into Walter's fingers, desperate for more touch, more pleasure. 

"Easy," Walter crooned. "I'm gonna take you home, honey, don't worry." 

Ray buried his face in his pillow, squeezing it in his fists. Walter began to pay more attention to the little bundle of nerves, and Ray started to feel desperate: He was so sensitive, and it was so much sensation that it was overwhelming, even though it was pleasure. He felt tears in his eyes, on his face, and he moaned. 

"Walter, I can't— _please_ —" 

Walter pressed down on Ray's prostate and held it, and Ray's whole body shuddered as he came. He felt his orgasm everywhere, little pieces of pleasure throbbing through his blood, shimmering like confetti. 

Walter left the bed, and Ray waited for his body to stop shaking, for the giddy panic that still had him crying to stop. It was too much. He felt everything too much. 

Walter came back, and Ray felt him clean the lube off him with a damp cloth. He urged him onto his back with a hand pushing against his shoulder. Walter saw Ray's face, and his own fell. 

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, pulling Ray into his arms, "what's wrong?" 

Ray cried. He couldn't speak. Walter held him until he calmed down. 

"It was just—it was so much—" 

"Baby, I'm sorry," Walter murmured against his cheek. "I should've checked in with you more. Are you okay?" 

Ray wiped tears from his face with the back of his hand. "No, it's—it's not your fault, I—I'm sorry I'm being such a baby …" 

"It was your first experience with anal," Walter said. "It can be a lot to take. I'm sorry I didn't take better care of you. You want some water?" 

Ray nodded. Walter went into the bathroom and poured him a Dixie cup full from the tap, brought it back and helped him drink it in small sips. 

Ray felt the sense of panic fade. He let Walter clean the come off his stomach and lay him down in the bed with the afghan covering him. Walter put the lube and the soiled washcloth away, and then he came back and laid down next to Ray. Ray cuddled against him. 

"I liked it," he said. "Really." 

Walter kissed his forehead. "I'm glad, honey. I got an idea for a little anal play for your sub session on Friday, but I got a backup, too. Between now and then, decide whether you want to try it." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy. You feeling better?" 

"Yes, sir." 

They were quiet for a while, cuddled together, Ray getting drowsy as Walter rubbed his back slowly up and down, up and down. When Walter spoke, it was softly. 

"You did really well today, Ray. I'm gonna start you out taking care of dinner one night a week. We'll do that for a couple weeks, then I'll move you up to two, then three. Sound fair?" 

"Yes, sir. And then four?" 

"No. Three nights a week is going to be your regular routine." 

"You don't want me to do all the cooking?" 

Walter looked him in the eye. "Raymond, you're my submissive, not my servant. I want to give you some responsibility because it's good for you, and because you are part of a household and you should contribute to that household, but you're not here to do things I don't like doing myself. When I give you a task, it's to give _you_ something, not to do me a favor. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. For explaining, and … and for taking care of me." 

Walter petted his hair. "That's my job, honey. And one I'm happy to do." 

Ray raised his face to be kissed, and Walter obliged him, kissing him soft and slow.  



	7. Thunderstorm

  
Ray was woken by thunder. He sat up in bed, watched a flash of lightning coincide with a loud crack of thunder. Rain was falling hard, beating on the roof. It made him feel claustrophobic. 

He hated thunderstorms. They woke up something wild and frustrated in him, a chained tiger behind his breastbone. 

Walter's fingertips brushed his bare back, and Ray sighed and lay back down beside him. He cuddled against him, closed his eyes, and wished for sleep. 

***

The storm was still raging when Walter got up to get ready for work. Ray had already been up for hours. He was in his room, sitting on the floor by the bookcase as he reordered his books. 

Walter poked his head in. "How long you been at this?" 

Ray shrugged. "I don't know. Since four-ish? I moved some furniture, too. What time is it now?" 

"Seven." 

"Then around three hours, I guess."

"Come have some breakfast." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"I don't recall asking. Get up." 

Ray sighed, and hauled himself off the floor. As he walked out the door, Walter landed a sharp slap to his backside. Ray jumped, his hands flying back to cover his ass, just in case another slap was coming. 

"What was that for?" he asked. 

"You tell me." 

Ray stopped. Thought. 

"I was rude," he said. "Moody. And you gave me an order, and I talked back instead of obeying." 

"Very good. Let's have that be the only time I have to smack your bottom today, okay?" 

"Yes, sir." 

It wasn't. After breakfast, Walter went to his home office to work, and Ray went back to his room. He did everything in there he could think of doing, and then moved aimlessly through the house trying to find something to put himself to. He felt like he was going to burst out of his skin. 

He walked into Walter's office. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm working. Come here." 

Walter was at his drafting table, working on a blueprint. He lowered the table so it was parallel with the floor, then stood to intercept Ray. Once he was close enough, he grabbed him by the arm, bent him over the table, and landed five hard smacks to his backside. 

"This is my place of business. You are never to come in here without permission, understand?" 

Ray whined. "Ow! Yes, sir, I understand!" 

Walter let him up. "Go find something constructive to do, or I will assign you a task."

Ray left the room pouting. He tried reading, but he couldn't focus. He stretched, did some push-ups. He wanted to go for a run, but the rain was still pouring down. There were no sidewalks around Walter's house, only forest paths covered with leaves and pine needles. It wasn't the safest terrain to run on when it was wet out. 

That argument managed to dissuade him for about two minutes. Then he changed into his running clothes and left the house. 

He got about halfway down the trail before he slipped. He fell forward, breaking his fall with his hands. His palms were scratched and bleeding, and so were his knees, but nothing felt broken. He was soaked to the bone, filthy, and hurt, and even though he still had so much nervous energy that he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin, he knew when he'd been beat, and he walked back home. 

Walter was in the kitchen making lunch when Ray came in the door. 

"What the hell?" he demanded the second Ray stepped inside. "Stay there. Don't move."

Walter left the room and came back with two big, fluffy towels. 

"Strip," he said. 

Ray began to peel off his clothes, soaked with rain water and covered with mud, leaves, and pine needles. Walter started to lecture. 

"What in the hell were you thinking?" he asked, toweling Ray off roughly. "You're lucky you didn't fall down the goddamn mountain! What if you'd broken your leg out there? It could've taken hours to find you!" 

When Ray was dry and cleaner, Walter took him by the arm and marched him down the hall to the ensuite bathroom off his bedroom. He sat Ray, half wrapped in a towel, down on the closed seat of the toilet, and pulled some first aid supplies out of the cabinet under the sink. 

He went to work cleaning and bandaging the scrapes on Ray's hands and knees. His touch was no nonsense, unflinching, and direct. He got the job done without fuss. 

"I don't know what has gotten into you today, but I know how to take care of it," Walter said, taping down the last bit of gauze. "I'm gonna blister your bottom for you being reckless, careless, and, frankly, stupid." 

Ray felt dread condense in his gut, but to be honest, he had known what he was in for before he'd even made it back to the house. Walter marched him, bare naked, into the bedroom, and pulled him over his knee. Ray's face was down against the comforter, his backside was propped up, and his legs hung over Walter's knee, toes slipping over the hardwood floor. He should've been embarrassed, but this position, snug on Walter's knee with Walter holding him down, his free hand resting on Ray's backside, was actually kind of comforting. Walter was so close, all around him, and he felt comfortably contained. He was starting to like when Walter controlled him physically, and apparently this was no exception. 

"Raymond, do you remember the rules, how you're supposed to behave during a spanking?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. Break the rules, and you'll get one warning before consequences." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Walter sighed. "This was one hundred percent avoidable, boy. You made some bad decisions today. All right. Buckle up; I'm going to start." 

Walter's hand left his backside, and after a moment, landed back down with a vicious smack. Ray yelped and rocked over Walter's lap. Walter kept landing hard spanks all over Ray's ass and thighs, picking up a quick rhythm. Ray wanted to squirm, but he didn't want to make things worse, so he grabbed onto the comforter and put his head down, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get through the stinging pain spreading like liquid fire over his ass and thighs. Walter was holding him in place as he dealt the blows, and Ray felt caught, but he didn't hate that part of it. Again, it was comforting, like Walter was holding him up as he endured a painful procedure. It helped to think of it that way. Like the spanking was medicine. His bad decisions, the desperate restlessness inside of him, were sicknesses, and the spanking was curing him of them. 

Ray's backside was on fire. The pain was beginning to sink into the muscle, like pressing on a bruise, and the initial, sharp pain when Walter's palm met his flesh just layered on top, raw and stinging. Instead of becoming easier to bear as the spanking went on, it was harder. Ray started to cry, his face still buried in the comforter, his hands still balled into fists around the material. 

_I'm sorry,_ Ray thought. And then, almost immediately, _No, I'm not. I needed this. If Walter didn't spank me for this, it would've been something worse, later._

It felt good, admitting that, even if it was just to himself. It still hurt, and he was still crying his eyes out, but the spanking was easier to take. 

After Ray was good and thoroughly spanked, Walter slowly let the smacks taper off, until the punishment was over. He rubbed Ray's back. 

"You were such a good boy during your punishment, sweetheart. Can you stand up for me? I'll help you." 

Ray let Walter help him to his feet, and then lay him down on the bed on his belly. Ray did the breathing exercise Walter had taught him, and by the time Walter was back with the cream for Ray's raw butt, Ray was hardly crying anymore. 

"Did you learn your lesson, young man?" 

"Yes, sir," Ray whispered. His voice was rough. 

Walter began to rub the soothing cream over the well-spanked flesh of Ray's ass and thighs. Ray breathed, and relaxed into the soft nest of Walter's bed. 

"I'm sorry," Ray said. "I really messed up your day being foolish and immature, and I'm sorry." 

"Thank you for that," Walter said. 

"I owed you an apology." 

"Yes, you did." He put the tub of cream on the bedside table. "Do you want some water, sweetheart?" 

Ray looked up at him. "No, sir. But could you … would you hold me? Just for a minute, if you could?" 

"Of course I will, baby," Walter said. He laid down next to him, slinging an arm across Ray's shoulders and pulling him in tight. 

Ray snuggled against him. This was nice. It was really nice. He wanted to stay here forever. 

They were quiet for a long while, no sound but their breathing and the rain still beating down on the roof. There was a crack of thunder, and Ray looked Walter in the face and said, "Thunderstorms make me restless." 

"I got that," Walter said gently. "They're not the only thing, though, are they?" 

"No, sir." 

"We're going to have to figure out how to deal with that restlessness without getting in trouble, aren't we?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"And Raymond?" 

"Yes, sir?" 

"If you're looking for a spanking, you can just ask for one. No reason to go through all the trouble of doing something stupid." 

Ray blushed. "I … thank you, sir. I don't think I realized what I was doing until I'd done it, though. But I'll remember that. For the future." 

Walter kissed his temple. "Good boy." 

Ray snuggled in close. Thunder cracked overhead, and Ray held onto Walter and got through it.  



	8. Safe

  
_Fifteen Years Ago_

Ray walked beside his mother through the aisles of the supermarket. He looked up at all the colorful things on the shelves, and all the people walking by or stopped to select a brand of cereal. They were in the baking aisle when he saw something new. 

"What's that?" he asked, and pointed at a dark-haired woman buying canned pumpkin. 

"Don't point at people, Raymond," his mother said gently. He put his hand down. "What's _what_?" 

"On her neck." 

His mother looked at the woman briefly. "Can you hold this bottle of cinnamon for me? I'll tell you what that is when we get to the soup." 

Ray took the cinnamon, and walked with his mother to the soup, which was an aisle over. 

"That woman was wearing a collar, sweetheart," his mother said. 

"Like a dog?" he asked. 

"No, not exactly …" 

"What's it for?" 

"It's from her dominant. To show … commitment. Ownership." 

He frowned. "Like a dog." 

"Sweetheart, this may be one of those things you won't understand until you're older. I'm sorry I can't explain it any better." She paused. "Do you want to pick out your cereal now?" 

"Yes," he said, and walked with her to the cereal aisle.

He was excited about his Lucky Charms, but not enough to forget the woman with the collar. He didn't want to be like that, marked for everyone to see. He didn't want to be owned, like a dog. Why would anyone want to make a person their dog? What good was a dominant, anyway? 

_Present Day_

Ray's well spanked backside hurt the rest of the day, but when he woke up the next morning, he found no bruising and no pain. It was sunny outside, and Ray felt downright chipper. Then he remembered it was Friday, and this evening he'd have his second sub session, and he felt fluttering anxiety in his belly. 

"Good morning, sweetheart," Walter said when Ray entered the kitchen. He pressed a kiss to Ray's cheek as he leaned past him en route to the coffee maker. "Have you made a decision about tonight's session?" 

"Yes, sir. I don't think I'm ready to do … you know, anal stuff in my session. I want to get more used to it in a more relaxed setting before we incorporate it into our sub sessions. But I think I'm okay with using other kinds of sex in our sessions." 

"Thank you for thinking this through, and for the detailed answer. I will respect your wishes, as always." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Walter sat down with his breakfast. "How are you feeling?" 

"Fine, thank you, sir. It doesn't hurt anymore." 

"That's good. Are you feeling restless?" 

Ray blushed. "No, sir. I think you, uh, got that out of me." 

"Glad to hear it. I've got to go into the office today; I'll be back around five. Please assure me I can trust you to be on your own until I get home." 

"I promise," Ray said, and he kept his word. 

Walter was home before five thirty, and he prepared them a light dinner. Ray's stomach was beginning to twist as he became more and more nervous, but he ate. Afterwards, they cleaned up, and then Walter looked at his watch and said, "All right, honey. Showtime." 

Ray swallowed thickly. He followed Walter down the hall to his bedroom, then waited nervously as he turned on the lamps and shut the curtains. 

When that was done, Walter looked at him. "There's something I want to teach you. Undress, please." 

Ray took his clothes off, searching Walter's face for a hint, but his expression didn't give anything away. 

"Kneel." 

Ray sank to his knees. 

"Sit back on your haunches." 

Ray relaxed down into the position, making himself comfortable on his knees. 

"Place both hands, palms down, on your thighs." 

Ray did as he was told. Walter smiled. "Good boy. From now on, when it's time for your session, you're going to come in here while I clean up after supper, and when I come in the room, I'm going to find you just like this."

"Yes, sir." 

"Sometimes outside of your sessions, I may ask you to 'find your place,' and when I do, what I want is you in this position. When I give you this command outside your sessions, don't strip unless I specifically tell you to. Do you understand everything I just said?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy. You can get up now; go ahead and lay down on the bed on your belly." 

Ray did as he was told. He heard Walter open the closet and move some things around in there. He didn't like not knowing what he was in for, but he stayed in position. He trusted Walter. 

Walter came up to the head of the bed. Ray looked straight ahead, staring at the headboard, until Walter said, "I want to show you what I'm going to be using on you tonight." 

Ray sat up on his elbows, turned to look. Walter was holding an odd implement. It was a wooden handle with a long, thick ponytail of light-colored hair protruding from the end. 

"This is a horsehair whip," Walter said. "I wanted to show it to you because it's called a whip, and that sounds scary, but it's not going to hurt you. You can feel the tail, if you want." 

Ray reached out and touched the ponytail, rolling some of the hair between his fingers. The hair was coarser than his own, but it was still soft. 

"I think you'll like this. The worst it'll hurt is like a light sunburn, but I'm going to go soft and slow, so we probably won't even get up to that. Okay?" 

"Yes, sir. Thank you for showing me." 

"You're welcome. Lay back down for me. I want you to concentrate on the feel of this on your skin, and the sound it makes. Just relax and take it in." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy." 

Ray crossed his arms beneath his head, used them for a pillow as he got settled into position. He faced downwards into the gap, the same as being on a massage table. He did the breathing exercise Walter had shown him during their last session, and that calmed him some. 

"Relax," Walter said. "I'm going to start now." 

Ray expected impact, but instead, Walter dragged the horsehair over his shoulders. It was a shivery kind of tickle, but not unpleasant. He repeated this down Ray's body, all the way to the soles of his feet. Ray was starting to relax. This was okay. He was safe with Walter, and he already knew the whip wouldn't hurt him. It was okay. 

There was a long pause while Walter repositioned himself, and then a quick _whoosh_ as he swung the whip down across Ray's back, and a sound like a broom settling on its bristles as it hit him. The coarse hairs whipping over his skin didn't hurt, but it was an odd, unique sensation. He could feel muscles twitching and goose pimples popping up, and it felt like the strike of the whip made his skin more sensitive. Walter dragged the ponytail across Ray's back as he brought the whip back up, and then he brought it down again. Ray's muscles twitched, and his skin prickled. Over and over again: the _whoosh_ and then impact, then the tail dragging across his back. There was a regular, even rhythm to it, and Ray felt his body adjusting to it, his breathing synching up. It was meditative, engrossing, and Ray began to feel disconnected, separate from his body, separate from his ears taking in the noise and his back taking the light slaps of the whip. He realized, all of a sudden, that he could no longer feel the whip striking him. He felt like he was levitating above the bed, floating on the air, just floating. 

He let himself float away. 

The next thing he knew, he was wrapped in the afghan, wrapped in Walter's arms. Walter was petting his back, and speaking to him. At first, it was just noise, a comforting hum. He forced himself to focus, and gradually the words took shape. 

"—my good boy. You did so well. Everything's all right. You're safe here. Everything's all right." 

"Did I—subspace?" Ray slurred. 

"Yes, honey, you did. You're just dropping out of it. Relax. You don't have to do anything for the rest of the night. Just relax." 

"Why—why do you—the afghan?" 

Walter lifted the afghan off Ray's shoulder. Within seconds, his body was wracked with shivers. His teeth chattered. Walter bundled him back up, rubbed his arm until he was warm again. 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. I know what I'm doing here, Ray." 

"I know," Ray slurred. "You're—you're good dom. Good to me. Take care of me." 

Walter kissed his forehead. "Thank you, sweet boy. That's all I wanna do." 

Ray snuggled against him. The feel of being in Walter's arms, the smell of his cologne, were starting to become comforting in a new way. They were becoming something that meant _safe_. 

Ray leaned into it. He hadn't wanted a dom, but he'd gotten one. It was changing everything about his life. And now, he thought, maybe he wanted it to.  



	9. Find Your Place

  
Ray woke easy. He was warm and happy, in Walter's bed, tucked against his side. He pressed himself in closer, nuzzling his neck. 

"Mornin'," Walter said softly. He ran his fingers lightly through Ray's hair. "Sleep good?" 

"Yes, sir. Did you?" 

"I did."

Ray stretched over him, pressed his lips gently against Walter's. Walter kissed him back, and Ray moved over Walter properly, hands on either side of his head, straddling him at the waist. 

"Is this okay?" he asked breathlessly between kisses. "Is it—is it disrespectful?" 

Walter laughed, but not unkindly. "Sweetheart, you can initiate any kind of romantic overture you want. You do not need permission. I don't even mind you on top like you are now; I like having you up there, to be honest. The only thing you cannot do is penetrate me. Not even with your fingers. Not even with your tongue. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Ray said coyly. "So you mean … if I wanted to, I could do this?" He kissed the pulse point in Walter's neck, with more than a little bit of teeth. "Or this?" 

He rocked in Walter's lap, rubbing their morning erections together. Walter groaned and took Ray by the waist, held him in place. 

"You're a little tease," he said. "Aren't you?" 

"No, sir," Ray said lightly. "Not that I'm aware." 

Walter rolled his eyes. He took one of his hands off Ray's waist, pulled his cock out of his pajamas. Ray was still naked from his sub session, and Walter grabbed both their cocks together and gave them one long stroke. Ray whined, and thrust against his hand. 

"Greedy," Walter admonished. 

"Please," Ray said, and Walter began stroking them both again. 

Ray moved his hips along with the motion, pushing into Walter's hand, rubbing their cocks together. It felt good, but not urgent; intimate, but not demanding. Walter took it slow, and they moved together, and Walter waited for Ray to come before coming himself. 

Walter kissed him. "Would you like to take a shower with me, boy?" 

Ray kissed him back. "Yes, sir." 

At first, it wasn't sexual. They stood beneath the spray, and took turns slowly soaping each other's bodies, just learning the terrain. Then Walter turned Ray around, so they were both facing the shower head, but Ray was between Walter and the wall. At first Walter just washed his back, the same as he had his front, but then he stepped forward, closing the distance between them, putting his arms around Ray and holding him close. Ray twisted his head so Walter could kiss him, and Walter's slick, soapy hand found Ray's cock and pumped him slowly for a moment. Then he pulled back a little and pushed Ray forward, towards the wall. Ray braced himself on one arm against the shower wall, and felt Walter's hard cock pressing against his ass. 

"Don't worry, baby, I'm not going to put it in," Walter said. 

Ray relaxed, then tensed again as Walter took hold of his shoulder, used the hold for leverage as he thrust his cock against the cleft of Ray's ass. Ray had never been used like that, had never had sex that was this physical, and it took him a while to relax. By that time, Walter was coming, and wrapping his hand around Ray's cock again, bringing him home, too. 

They toweled off in the bathroom, close because of the space. Ray felt a little shell shocked. Walter wrapped himself around Ray, pulling him back against his chest. 

"Did you like that?" he asked. "Be honest." 

"I think so," Ray said. "But I also think it'll take a little getting used to." 

"That's a respectable answer," Walter said, and kissed his cheek. "Go get dressed. I'll make you some breakfast." 

***

Breakfast was scrambled eggs. They ate together at the table. 

"I've got to go into the office for a bit, and then I thought I'd get the grocery shopping done," Walter said. "I want you to come with me." 

"Oh!" Ray said. "I—really?" 

Walter chuckled. "Really. You're going to have to learn how to be a good submissive outside of this house, Ray." 

"Oh. Right. Um, yes, sir." 

Apprehension coiled in his gut. This was a test. This was a _big_ test, and he wasn't sure if he was going to pass. 

***

"I want you on your best behavior," Walter said as they drove into the city. "When we're out in public, I expect the same level of respect as at home." 

"Yes, sir." 

"I need to talk to you about how to behave around other dominants. You should be respectful, the same as you would be to a teacher or an elder, but you don't owe them the same level of respect you show me. They're not your dom; I am. They don't know you; you do not have to take orders from them. Don't be bratty or rude, just politely decline if another dominant asks you to do something you're uncomfortable with. Use your best judgment. And never let another dominant make you do something that goes against a command I've given you. Let's say I told you to sit on a bench to wait for me. If another dominant comes up and asks for your seat, you say, 'I'm sorry, but my dominant told me to sit here and wait, and I cannot disobey him.' Do you understand all that? I know it's a lot."

"Yes sir," Ray said slowly. "I think so. But what if … what if you told me to wait for you on a bench, and then a pregnant woman comes looking for somewhere to sit, and everywhere else is taken? Could I give her my seat?" 

Walter chuckled. "Raymond, you've got such a sweet nature, that that's the first thing you'd worry about. You're a bright boy; use your best judgment. But if you give your seat to someone who needs it, I better find you standing right next to it when I come back, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Walter's office was on the fifth floor of a tall building downtown. They had to park in a garage and then walk a couple blocks, and Ray tried to keep his head up and just walk, but he felt himself shrinking back, second guessing himself. Was that man pushing past him to the crosswalk a dominant? Should he have stepped aside? Was Walter mad that he hadn't? 

Ray's jaw was jerking by the time they got inside the building. There was a security desk as they entered the ground floor, and Walter nodded at the guard and said, "He's with me," as they passed. 

"Do I need to get out my papers?" Ray asked. 

Walter frowned. "What? No, honey, this ain't the Pentagon." 

They were the first into the elevator, and Ray shrank back against the back wall as more people stepped in. He ran his tongue over the ridges of his teeth.

"You're all right," Walter said quietly. "You're doing fine. Everything's all right." 

Ray practically ran out of the elevator when they got to the fifth floor. Walter grabbed his arm, stopping him from getting too far ahead. 

"Easy, kid." 

Walter's office was dark; it was the weekend, so his secretary wasn't there. Walter unlocked the door, then steered Ray past the front desk and into his office. 

"There, by the couch," Walter said. "Find your place." 

Ray frowned, but he did as he was told, assuming the position on his knees Walter had showed him. "Is this a punishment?" 

"No. Does it feel like a punishment?" 

"Yes." 

Walter sighed. "I've got to make some phone calls, Ray. I will explain this to you when I'm done. I expect you to be still and quiet until I'm finished." 

"Yes, sir." 

Ray waited on his knees while Walter made his phone calls. It wasn't uncomfortable, maintaining the position, but he resented it, and he felt restless. He wanted to move. But Walter had told him not to. So he was still and quiet while Walter made his calls, but he was in an ill mood by the time Walter was finished. 

Walter set the phone on the cradle, and turned to look at Ray. 

"I could tell you were getting stressed. The task I asked you to perform—be on your best behavior—was nonspecific, and so to focus you, I gave you a specific task I knew you could perform and perform correctly. It feels like a punishment because I shortened your tether, and you resent that. What I need you to understand is that it is part of a dominant's job to decide how much freedom their submissive can handle at any given time, and to give them just that much. You're a good boy, Ray, but you need structure and limits. It's my job to provide both. Do you understand?"

Ray felt his resentment extinguish. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy," Walter said. He left his chair, walked over to Ray, and extended his hand. "Come on. Lemme give you a hand up." 

Ray took Walter's hand, and let him help him to his feet. He leaned into the movement, pressing himself against Walter, sliding an arm around him. 

"Thanks," he said, and kissed him softly. 

***

Ray walked beside Walter as he pushed the shopping cart through the aisles of the grocery store. 

"I haven't noticed any problems with your eating, so go ahead and get anything you want," Walter said. "And groceries are always on me." 

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." 

"You're welcome." 

They stopped in produce, where Ray took his time selecting a variety of fruit. Once he was satisfied, they walked on. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Ray asked. "About what we were talking about in your office." 

"You can always ask me anything, Ray." 

"How did you—how did you get so good at all of this?" 

"All of what?" 

Ray fidgeted. "The dom stuff." 

"Oh," Walter said. "Okay. Well, you know when dominants are eighteen, they start a three year program, right?" 

"Yeah, but they don't tell us anything about what it's like." 

"The first year is just like a college class," Walter said. "You're in a classroom with a group of other dominants, and you're taught about submissive biology and behavior, about the psychology of learning, stuff like that. The second year, you intern at a submissive agency or somewhere similar. There you learn about the legal aspects of the dom/sub relationship, about the matching process, and you get to spend time around submissives. You see the ones who tried to run, the ones who broke laws or contracts, and the ones who weren't cared for properly. It's pretty intense. You learn a lot of empathy quickly."

Ray poked his tongue into his cheek. He had thought about running. He wondered how bad it would've been when they caught up with him, if Walter was so impacted by seeing subs who had run. 

"Then the third year is an apprenticeship," Walter said. "They pair you with an experienced dominant, and you see the day-to-day reality of caring for a sub. It's one-on-one instruction, and you learn things about running a household and taking a submissive to subspace." 

"And … and you learned from experience, too, right?" Ray asked. "I mean, you've had submissives before." 

Walter chuckled. "Jealous, Raymond?" 

Ray flushed. "No, I just—yeah, okay, yes. I am." 

Walter smiled warmly at him, and caressed his cheek. "Don't worry about them. I am completely devoted to you now, Ray." 

Ray's blush darkened. "Can I ask … can I ask how many?" 

"How many subs I had before you?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Four." 

"Wow, that's—I mean, that's really good, right? You had them all for several years?" 

"All but one," Walter said. "My second sub, we did a six month contract, and he decided we weren't a good match, and he didn't renew, which was his right. I thought maybe we could've taken a few more months, tried to work things out, but he wasn't interested." 

"Is that why you wanted a nine month contract with me?" 

"Yes. Six months just seems like enough time to establish a good rhythm, and I think you need a few months to stay in that rhythm before deciding if it's working out." 

Ray nodded. "Okay. I get it. And … maybe it's not right to say this, but I'm glad he didn't renew his contract." 

"And why's that?" 

"Because maybe it would've worked out, and you two would still be together, and then you'd never get to be my dom." 

Walter pulled him close, pressed a kiss to his temple. "You really are the sweetest thing sometimes, Raymond." 

Ray leaned into the embrace. He thought about the command he'd been given: Find your place. Maybe he already had.  



	10. Fireworks

  
Late Sunday afternoon, Walter made an odd request. 

"Go put on something nice," he said. "Not black tie, but not jeans." 

Ray was confused, but he did as he was told, going to his room to change into khakis and a light blue dress shirt. When he came back out, he saw Walter had changed, too; he was wearing dark dress pants and a white Oxford, but he still had his cowboy boots on. 

"You look nice," Ray said. 

"Thank you. You too. Ready to go?" 

Ray frowned. "Go where?" 

"I got a surprise for you, honey." 

Ray got in the car, and Walter drove them away from the house, and away from the city. 

"You're not going to tell me where we're going?" Ray asked. 

Walter slanted an amused glance at him. "Do you know what a surprise is or not, Ray?" 

Ray blushed. "Yes, sir." 

Walter chuckled, and drove on. They drove past some suburbs and shopping centers, and then the landscape began to go back to nature. They drove past parks and baseball diamonds, basketball courts and covered picnic tables. A while after that, Ray saw the water stretching out dark blue in the distance. 

"Is that the river?" Ray asked. 

"Yes."

Ray started seeing signs for the marina, and Walter followed them until they were pulling up to the riverfront. There was a great riverboat docked there, and people in nice clothes boarding. 

"I want you to enjoy this," Walter said. "Try not to stress out, and if you start to, just talk to me about it, okay? Tonight's for you." 

"I … thank you, sir." 

"You're welcome. Come on." 

They boarded the boat. The interior rooms had food, music, and a full bar. Walter took Ray out to the open walkway, where there were fewer people, to look at the water. 

Walter leaned against the taffrail bordering the walkway. "You ever been on a boat before?" 

"Just little ones. My uncle has a small fishing boat, and he taught me how to kayak. Nothing like this." 

"I've never really been around it, to be honest. I guess that's weird, with the river right here."

"So why'd you decide to do this?" 

"Raymond," Walter said patiently, "it's a surprise." 

Ray blushed. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to press. I just didn't know there was more to the surprise than this." 

"There is. You'll know it when you see it, okay?" 

"Yes, sir." 

The boat started to move, pushing away from the dock. Ray wasn't ready for it, and he stumbled a bit, grabbing onto Walter's arm to steady himself. 

"Sorry," he said as he regained his footing. 

Walter chuckled. "Can't keep your hands off me." He kissed his cheekbone. "Want a drink? Lemme get you a drink." 

They went inside. People were browsing the lines of buffet tables and clotted around the two bartenders. Walter slid into an open spot at the bar. 

"What do you want?" he asked. 

"A Coke?" 

"That all?" 

Ray jabbed his tongue into his cheek. "I, um, I don't drink." 

"Well, you just turned legal. You wanna try something? On me." 

Ray shook his head, and he guessed his face said enough, because Walter immediately turned to the bartender and ordered a beer and a Coke. 

They took their drinks back out to the taffrail. Dusk was on the horizon, the sky beginning to bruise purple and dark orange. A cool wind was blowing over the water, but Ray's cheeks still felt hot. 

"I don't drink," Ray said quietly. 

"That's fine, honey." 

"No, um, I … you don't understand." 

"So talk to me." 

Ray's chest felt tight. They were alone on the deck, the nearest couple well out of earshot. The falling darkness made things seem more private than they were, more intimate, like they were alone on the boat. 

It was hard for Ray to get the words out. "My father—my biological father—he, um, he drank. Not like … not like you do, not like my dad—my stepdad—does. He, um, he was an alcoholic." 

"I'm sorry, Ray," Walter said softly. "I didn't realize the man I spoke with wasn't your father." 

"I mean, he is. He raised me since I was eleven. So he is. Too. He is, too." 

"What happened to your biological father?" 

Ray gripped the taffrail. He looked out at the water, inky in the low light. 

"He died. Um, he was—he built skyscrapers. No safety harness, in his bare feet. He just … he started drinking more and more, and eventually he started drinking at work. He fell. I don't know—I guess he wasn't too far up, because we had an open casket, but, um, we didn't see him in the hospital or anything. It was pretty quick—for him, I guess. I just remember my mom came and picked me up from school early, and we went to my grandma's, and Mom took me in a quiet room and sat with me in her lap, and she told me he had died. And she started to explain what that meant, but I already knew. I knew what dead was."

"Jesus," Walter said. "How old were you?" 

"I was seven." Walter started to say something else, but Ray spoke over him. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop himself. "And I just—people say that stuff runs in families, and I don't want—I don't want to be like him. I mean—that's not what I mean. I mean, I don't want to be like him when he was drunk, and I just—so I don't. I don't drink, I don't do drugs, I don't want to. Not even—when I have to have cough medicine or whatever, I have to get the stuff without alcohol, just in case—just in case it's already in me, and all it needs is one drop of alcohol to wake it up. So I—just, um, remember that. If you have to buy me cough medicine."

"I will," Walter said gently. "I'll remember." 

Ray realized his hands were shaking, and he folded them into fists. They still shook. Walter was looking at him oddly, and Ray wanted to run away, but then he reached out and gently held his face, ran the pads of his thumbs beneath Ray's eyes. It took Ray a minute to understand: He was wiping tears off his face. 

"It's okay, Ray," he said softly. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it was hard." 

Ray pressed himself against him, and Walter held him. "It's okay, honey. You're okay." 

***

It was dark when the surprise started. Ray heard it first, a crack like thunder, and looked up to see sparkling trails of bright red and white exploding in the sky. 

"It's Fourth of July weekend," Walter said. He was looking at Ray's face, not the fireworks. 

"You remembered," Ray said. He grinned. "Thank you, sir." 

Walter gave him a squeeze, and kissed his temple. "You're welcome, Ray." 

They watched the fireworks in silence for a while. The boat was in the middle of the river, and the city was shooting the fireworks off right above them. Ray kept having the insane idea that the sparks would fall down on them, like confetti. 

"So what is it you like best about this?" Walter asked. 

"I've loved it since I was a kid, when we had, you know, sparklers and maybe the parade downtown and not much else. It just … even as a kid, it seemed so hopeful that we have a day to celebrate this country, which is … I know there are problems. It's not perfect. I mean, I know. But the idea of America as a land of opportunity, the idea of the American dream, it's … I think it shows the best of humanity." He shrugged. "I guess that sounds naive." 

Walter shook his head. "No, it doesn't. It's refreshing, really, to hear someone say something that earnest. People are so jaded these days, and you're not like that. And I love that about you. I just guess I got a different look at America than you did." 

"Why?" 

Walter gave him a soft look. "Look at me, honey. I'm Native American. We saw a really different side of this country from the start. And I can't say not being white is always a pleasant experience in this country." 

"I didn't realize you were Native, sir," Ray said finally. "I mean, I knew that you weren't white, but I thought it would be rude to ask." 

"It depends on how you ask." 

Ray chewed his bottom lip. "I—my father was. My biological father. He didn't teach me anything about it, and I don't have any tribal affiliation, but it's in my blood. I got my ass kicked for it more than once, when I was a kid." 

"Your dad was an Indian?" 

"Yes, sir. Sioux." 

"No kidding? I'm a Sioux, too. Oglala Lakota. You know any more about the band, or—?" 

"No, sir. Sorry." 

"Hell, that's okay, Ray," Walter said. "I'm happy to know this about you. Thank you for sharing that with me." 

"You're welcome, sir." Then, shyly, "Maybe … maybe you could tell me about it, sometime. Being Sioux." 

"I'd love to, honey." 

They looked up at the fireworks. Walter put an arm around Ray, pulled him in tight. 

"I'll give you one thing: They sure are pretty." 

***

They got home late, then went to their separate ends of the house to get ready for bed. Ray was in his pajamas with all his nighttime bathroom rituals done, but something didn't feel right. He stood for a long moment staring at his bed, and then that something struck him. 

Walter's door was open, so Ray knocked on the door jamb. Walter looked up from making down the bed. 

"Yes, sweetheart?" 

Ray poked his tongue into his cheek. "May I come in?" 

"Yes, you may." 

Ray walked in a few steps. He paused at the head of the bed. Walter was watching him with his kind, dark eyes. "What is it, honey?" 

"I, um—sir, I … I wanted to ask permission to sleep in here with you tonight." 

Walter smiled. "Permission granted." 

"And, um, I thought maybe—maybe not just tonight? Maybe … would it be okay if I slept in here from now on?" 

Walter sat down on the bed. "Come here." 

Ray went. He stopped in front of Walter, but then Walter took him by the hips and pulled him in closer, so Ray was standing between his legs. 

"Is that what you want?" Walter asked quietly. "Or are you trying to please me? Be honest." 

"It's what I want, sir. I'm sure of it." 

Walter smiled. "All right. Yes, Ray, you may sleep in here every night. But you don't have to. If you decide some night that you want a little more space, you can go sleep in your room. It's important to me that you have your own space available if you need it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Are you all ready for bed?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy. You come on and get in this bed; tomorrow, if you want, we can talk about moving some of your toiletries into the bathroom, maybe making some space for some of your clothes in the closet. Sound good?" 

Ray grinned. "Yes, sir. Sounds great." 

Walter raised his brow. "Didn't I give you a command?" 

It took Ray a moment to remember. "Oh! Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." 

Walter let go of him, and Ray crawled under the covers. Walter shut the door and turned off the light, and then he got in the other side of the bed. They were close, and Ray basked in the feeling of Walter's body next to his, his scent on the bedclothes. 

"May I ask for one more thing, please, sir?" 

"What's that?" 

"A goodnight kiss?" 

There was a pause, and Ray wondered if he'd pushed too far, but then Walter chuckled. 

"Ask me properly, please." 

"May I please have a kiss goodnight, sir?" 

Walter turned toward him, tilted his chin up, and kissed him. 

"Yes, you may," he said softly, and then kissed him again.  



	11. Service

  
"I want to have a talk with you," Walter said as he entered the kitchen Monday morning. 

Ray felt a mixture of fear and anticipation tingle through him. "Am I in trouble?" 

"What? No, no, nothing like that. Get your breakfast fixed and sit down at the table, and we'll have a talk." 

Ray obeyed. Walter joined him a moment later, sitting down across from him with his own breakfast. 

"I want to talk to you about service submission," Walter said. 

"What's that?" 

"I'm gonna get there. First, I want to tell you that the reason I'm bringing this up is because I think you'll take to it. I am so proud of you and all the progress you've made learning about the rules of this house and how to address me, how I want you to behave, but I know that, as far as submission goes, it's still a bitter pill for you sometimes. I want you to find ways that you like submitting. Once you do, the rest will get easier. Do you understand?"

Ray chewed his lip. "I think so." 

"Good boy. Now, service submission is about doing things for your dominant. It can be little things like making me a cup of coffee, or big things like cleaning the house, but it's all about you performing services for me." Ray was quiet. Walter looked at him. "Tell me what's on your mind, honey." 

"I can't." 

"I'm sorry?" 

Ray squirmed. "I think what I'm thinking is disrespectful." 

"Well, I'd like to hear it anyway. Tell me." 

Ray lowered his eyes. 

"You said I'm not your servant," he said softly. 

"Look at me, please." Ray brought his eyes up hesitantly. "Good boy. You're right. You are not my servant. And service submission isn't about making you into one. It's about you finding things you like to do for me. We're going to spend a week on this, and I'm not going to give you any tasks related to it. On your own, you're going to think up things you want to do for me. I want you to try for two a day; one can be a repeat, but I'd like you to try one new thing every day. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, sir."

Walter patted his shoulder. "This isn't a test. This is you learning. It's okay if you mess up. It's okay if you need to ask for help. All I want you to do is try your best. Can you do that for me?" 

Ray nodded. "Yes, sir." 

Walter leaned in and kissed him. "Good boy. Your week starts today, and ends Sunday. You're going to make me proud, I know it." 

***

That night, Ray lay in bed watching Walter put on his pajamas. 

"So you made the bed this morning," Walter said, "and you cleaned the windows. How did performing those tasks feel?" 

Ray shrugged. "Just like making the bed and cleaning the windows. Not special." 

"Okay, well, keep looking. You did a good job today, and I'm proud of you." 

Ray flushed. "Thank you, sir." 

Walter crawled onto the bed, leaning over Ray to kiss him. "You're welcome, honey." 

***

Ray got up early the next day and went for a run. He was showered and dressed when Walter came into the kitchen for breakfast. 

"Mornin', honey." 

"Good morning, sir," Ray said, and handed him a cup of coffee. Walter took a sip and nodded. Ray studied his face. "Did I get it right?" 

"You did. Thank you, sweetheart." 

Ray beamed. "You're welcome, sir." 

"How'd that feel?" Walter asked. "Making my coffee?" 

"I liked it. I liked the ritual of making it, adding the right amount of sugar. And I was proud to give it to you and have it be the way you like it." 

"Good boy," Walter said. "See? That's service submission." 

Ray smiled. 

***

Ray made his coffee the next day, too, and he made the bed, but his new act of service for the day didn't come until Walter got home from work. He'd been on site all day, and upon stepping in the door, he dropped his things and went to sit on the couch. 

Ray went to sit by him. "Rough day?" 

"Just a little demanding. And I been standing most of it; I needed to get off my feet." 

Ray rested his hand on Walter's shoulder. He frowned, pressing his thumb gently into the muscle. 

"You feel really tense," he said. "You hold your tension in your shoulders?" 

"Uh, I don't know, honey." 

Ray's hand moved to the back of Walter's neck. He tested the muscles for tension there, too. 

"What are you doing?" Walter asked. 

"Do you ever get back aches?" Ray asked. 

"Yes, sometimes. Now, I asked you a question—" 

"I'm sorry, sir. I was just feeling the tension in your neck and shoulders. Have you ever had a massage?" 

"No." 

"Would you like one?" Ray asked. "I think it'll help." 

Walter gave him a sly look. "You good at that?" 

"Walter," Ray said seriously, "I'm training to be a physical therapist. I have received expert instruction in massage." 

"What'd you get in that class?" 

"A-plus." 

"All right then," Walter said, "let's see what you got." 

"It would help me if you'd strip down to your underwear and lie face down on the bed," Ray said. "Lemme just go grab a couple things." 

When Ray got to their bedroom, Walter was undressed to his shorts and laying face down on the bed. Ray set down the towel and the baby oil he'd fetched, and wasted a moment taking in the fine form before him. 

"That was very careful wording back there, making sure you weren't giving me an order," Walter said. "I appreciate that." 

"Thank you, sir. May I begin?" 

"You may." 

Ray oiled his hands, then bent over Walter's back, starting with slow, shallow strokes of his palms on either side of Walter's spine. 

"It would also help me if you let me know if I'm applying too much pressure," Ray said. "Correct deep tissue massage can be a little uncomfortable sometimes, but it should never be painful." 

"I'll keep that in mind. Feels real good so far, honey." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Walter was relaxing beneath Ray's hands, and he'd warmed up all the muscles above Walter's shorts. "I'm going to start with a little more pressure." 

Walter hummed an affirmation, and Ray started some gliding strokes below Walter's neck, using his forearm, knuckles, and thumbs to work out the tension Walter carried there. Ray was about to ask if he was hurting when Walter let out a pleased moan, so instead he kept his head down and focused on his work. 

When the massage was finished, Walter's muscles were soft as jelly. Ray wiped the oil off his hands. 

"Are you feeling better, sir?" 

Walter sat up slowly, flexing his shoulders experimentally. "Ray, I feel fantastic. You're really good at that." 

"Thank you, sir." 

He motioned to the trunk at the foot of the bed, where his clothes were folded up. "Gimme those, would you?" 

Ray walked over and picked up Walter's clothes. Walter was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting, and Ray walked to him and then sank to his knees between Walter's legs, holding his clothes up. Walter slid a hand through Ray's hair and smiled at him, and then he started to dress. 

"Why did you kneel?" he asked. 

Ray was still on his knees. He felt a little woozy, off track, like he'd just taken a blow to the head. "I … I'm not sure. I just felt like I should." 

"Good instinct," Walter said. He was fully dressed now, except for his boots. He offered Ray a hand. "Come on." 

Ray let Walter help him to his feet. Walter gave him a kiss, then said, "Let's get dinner going. I'm starving." 

Ray followed him out into the kitchen. He thought about kneeling at Walter's feet. It had felt normal, natural. _Right_. 

***

Ray was kneeling again on Friday night, waiting for Walter to come in and start his sub session. He didn't mind, truth be told, but he was still nervous about how the session was going to go. 

Walter entered the room, and smiled down at him. "Good boy. You just stay there while I get ready." 

It didn't take long. Walter went to the closet where he kept the train case and various other things Ray had been too nervous to investigate, and he came back with two coils of rope. 

Ray lost his breath. 

"No," he said, and flinched when he heard the high, raw note in his voice. 

Walter knelt beside him. He cupped Ray's face in his hand. 

"Raymond," he said soothingly, "you've been such a good boy this week. I'm so proud of how seriously you took the service submission assignment, and how well you performed it every day. I know you know that, for these sub sessions to work, you have to trust me. You have to submit to me. I know doing these new things is scary, but you trust me, don't you?"

"Yes," Ray said softly. 

"So I'm going to ask you: Do you remember your safeword?" 

"Yes." 

"Now, was that a no because you're nervous, or a real no? If it's a real, _I cannot do this_ no, just say your safeword, and I'll stop." 

Ray chewed his lip. His chest felt tight. "I, um … it's a no because I'm nervous. I'm sorry." 

"Nothing to be sorry about. I want you to communicate with me. Thank you for trusting me. I'm not going to do anything to hurt you. I am going to tie you up, but it's not going to hurt. Here, I want you to feel the rope. Feel how soft it is." 

Ray reached out and rubbed the rope between his thumb and forefinger. The strands of the rope were strong, tightly woven, but it felt soft to the touch, more yarnlike than other ropes he'd handled. 

"It's soft, isn't it?" Walter asked. 

"Yes, sir." 

"I'm going to be gentle with you, Ray. I want you to get up, and get one of the pillows off the bed." Ray did as he was told. "Good boy. Now come back over here, lay the pillow on the floor, and kneel on it."

Ray knelt on the pillow, close to Walter again. The tightness in his chest was beginning to dissipate. There was starting to be something soothing about following Walter's commands. It wasn't all the time—sometimes he still wanted to resist—but sometimes he would just lose himself in the ritual of obeying. He didn't have to make decisions. He only had to trust, and do what he was told. It made things easier. 

"Good boy," Walter purred, and he stroked Ray's cheek. "I want you to stay still while I'm doing this, and I want you to tell me if anything is painful or if there's any tingling. Okay?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy. I want you to put your arms behind your back, crossing horizontally—your elbow on one side of your ribs, your fingers on the other—as far as you can without discomfort." 

Ray obeyed. It was a bit of an odd position, but not uncomfortable. Walter moved behind him, and began to wind rope around his forearms, tying his arms together. Ray forced himself to breathe deeply. In, out. In, out. He was safe with Walter. Walter said this wouldn't hurt, and he believed him. He was nervous because this was new to him, and because he didn't like it when he wasn't free to move. Nothing bad was going to happen. 

After Ray's arms were bound, Walter began winding the rope around his chest. It pulled his arms up a little, and being bound like that made him sit up a little straighter. He could move his fingers, and he could breathe. Everything was okay. 

"You're doing so good, baby. How do you feel?" 

"Okay. It … there's something kind of nice about the pressure. It's almost like a hug." 

"That's good, sweetheart. I like your attitude. You're being a very good boy." 

Ray smiled, and blushed. Walter carefully wound more rope around Ray's chest. He could feel it sliding against his skin, soft when it was loose, strong when it was stretched. He could hear his breathing like he was listening to it through a stethoscope, and it was slowing down. Walter tied off the rope at Ray's forearms, and then he stayed behind his back. He put his hand on Ray's shoulder, and stroked him with his thumb, slowly, over and over again, back and forth, back and forth. 

Ray was starting to get lightheaded. He closed his eyes. The bindings held him, held him in place. He imagined Walter pulling them loose like pulling a rip cord, and Ray would just float away. The air took him, held him, and he rode the gentle winds like a tiny, weightless dandelion seed. 

The next time Ray opened his eyes, he was on the bed, wrapped up in the afghan, held tight against Walter's chest. The ropes were gone. He didn't know how much time had passed, but now it was dark outside. 

"Hey there," Walter said softly. "Did you enjoy your trip to subspace?" 

Ray blinked. He couldn't form words. "Mm-hmm." 

"That's good, baby. You did so good. Now tell me: Did you like the ropes?" 

"Mm-hmm." 

"That's good. Get some rest now, sweetheart; you deserve it." 

Ray cuddled against him, settled down into the plush, soft, warm feeling. Soon, he slept. 

***

Monday morning, they sat at the table and talked about service. 

"So," Walter said, "which services are you going to keep doing?" 

"I want to keep making your coffee," Ray said. "You could … maybe you could even call me when you want another cup, and I'll get it for you." 

Walter smiled. "You like that idea?" 

Ray was surprised to find he did. "Yes, sir." 

"What else?" 

"I'm going to keep making the bed every morning. I'd like to be in charge of the linens: taking them off and laundering them, then making up the bed with fresh sheets."

"Sounds good to me," Walter said. 

"And I'll give you a massage whenever you want one. I think we both enjoyed that." 

"I think we did, too. I want to tell you again how proud I am of the work you've done this week. You took it seriously, and you worked hard. I couldn't be happier with you." 

Ray blushed. "Thank you, sir." 

Walter kissed him. "You're welcome, baby. And thank _you_ for being such a good boy."

Ray smiled.  



	12. Beads

  
Of course, in Walter's house, good behavior was rewarded. Walter took Ray to the movies that night, and then out for ice cream at a little mom and pop shop near the theater. 

Ray accepted his cone with a smile. "Thank you for the treat, sir." 

"You're welcome, honey. You earned it." Walter leaned in close, then, and murmured against his ear, "I got something for you once we get in bed, too." 

Ray blushed. Walter laughed. 

Later, naked together in Walter's bed, Ray was ready and eager, but Walter drew back for a moment to talk to him. 

"Now, sometimes I'll give you something sexual as a reward," he said, "but I don't want you to think that you have to earn sex."

"Okay," Ray said. He leaned in for a kiss, but Walter dodged him. He held him by the arms, looked him in the eye. 

"Are you listening to me?" he asked. 

"Yes, I am. I promise." 

Ray squirmed a little, eager to move things along, but Walter held him still as he continued. "There's a sexual component to this relationship, and it's maybe the place we're on the most equal footing. Okay? You respect my boundaries, and I respect yours, no questions asked. You never have to do anything sexual you don't want to, ever, and you can initiate sex just the same as I can. Do you understand?"

Ray mellowed a bit. He nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Walter let go of him. "Come here, if you want." 

Ray did want. He climbed into Walter's lap, face to face, put his arms around Walter's neck and kissed him. Walter stroked up and down Ray's back, held him close. 

"You said you had something for me?" Ray murmured between kisses. 

"I do," Walter said. "Do you want it?" 

Ray sucked at the pulse point of Walter's neck. "I don't know. Is it something nice?" 

"Oh, I'd say it's more something naughty," Walter said. 

Ray laughed. "Okay. Yes, please. May I have my treat?" 

Walter moved him gently, lifting him off him and onto the bed on his back. "I'll be right back." 

Ray's brow went up. "Are there props?" 

Walter was fooling around in the top drawer of the bedside table, where the lube and the little tuning fork vibrator lived. Ray had never looked inside the drawer, although he'd been tempted; he didn't know if he was allowed. Walter selected a few things from the drawer, then shut it and came back over to him. 

Ray looked up at him. He bit his lip. "Can I see what you're going to use on me?" 

Walter handed him the tube of lube, and something he didn't recognize. It was a flexible plastic string, about a foot long, of ten hard plastic beads of different sizes. There was a loop on one end, and at the other end, the beads started quite small and grew, each bead larger than the one before it. 

"What is it?" Ray asked. 

"These are anal beads." 

"So they go inside me?" 

"Yes," Walter said. "With your permission, of course." 

Ray studied the beads, rolled them between his fingers. The smallest was about the size of a blueberry, but the largest was almost as big around as a silver dollar. 

"Are you going to put them all in me?" 

"No, honey. Only as many as you want to take, which tonight will probably be the first three or four." 

Ray had liked their earlier anal play, even if it had been overwhelming. And he wanted to get to a place where he could take Walter's cock and enjoy it. Walter's cock was definitely bigger around than a silver dollar. 

"Okay," he said. 

"Good boy," Walter purred. "You just lay back and enjoy this. And please talk to me. I'm gonna check in on you, but I want to know how you're feeling, especially if you want to stop or you start to get overwhelmed. Okay?" 

"Yes, sir," Ray said softly. 

Walter bent down to kiss him. "That's my good boy. Take it easy now." 

Ray tried to relax. Walter moved down his body, about hip level, then gave Ray's haunch a little pat. "Bend your knees for me, sweetheart." 

Ray obeyed. Walter spread Ray's legs a little further apart, his touch gentle, and then he began lubing the end of the toy without the loop, the smallest beads. 

Ray breathed. He liked being in bed with Walter. He liked being naked with him. He liked knowing that if he wanted to stop this, all he had to do was say so. He was curious about the beads, even if they made him a little nervous; he'd liked Walter's fingers in him. 

"I'm going to put one in. Just this little one, okay?" 

"Yes." 

Ray felt gentle pressure, and then the cool slip of the lube. He felt the bead push inside him, and his breath shook a little. He liked the feel of it sliding into him. Then Walter just left it in place, and Ray clenched around it, and he tried to get used to the feel of it, smooth but very hard. It wasn't like Walter's fingers; he didn't feel that nice fullness, or the pressure on that little bundle of nerves beneath his perineum. 

"Can I have another one?" 

Walter looked a little surprised. "Sure you can, baby." 

Slowly, he pushed the second bead inside. It slipped in just as sweetly as the first one had, stimulating the nerve rich tissue of his hole and inside him. It also stretched Ray a bit more, and he felt a bit of that nice fullness. He wondered what it would be like to take all the beads, thought about the fat one at the end the width of a silver dollar. Right now taking them was easy, but that would probably hurt. Walter hadn't hurt him yet, but Ray had heard talk about anal, and he knew he was going to experience pain at some point. He just didn't think he was ready for it yet. But there were some things he _was_ ready for… 

"You want another one, baby?" Walter asked. 

"Yes, please." 

The third bead was more of a stretch, and it brushed against that sweet bundle of nerves below his perineum. Ray squirmed, trying to move it how he wanted it, but the beads didn't move within him. 

"Can I have another one, please?" he asked. 

Walter looked a little concerned, but he nodded. "You can have all you want, Ray. Just don't get too far ahead of yourself, okay?" 

"Yes, sir," Ray said, and then gasped as Walter pushed in the fourth bead. 

Ray felt himself stretched further, and when he clenched around this bead, it was actually uncomfortable bordering painful. It pushed the other beads more firmly against his prostate, but he couldn't enjoy it. 

"Um, maybe … can that one come out, please, sir?" 

Walter nodded. "Sure, honey." 

He pulled it out slowly, but it was still a bit of a shock, the bead pressing against the tight ring of muscle from the inside and then rubbing against that sensitive tissue as it popped out. He liked it, mostly. Ray panted, and a little moan escaped his throat. He changed his mind; there was no way he would ever make it up to the silver dollar bead. No way. 

"That one was too much?" Walter asked. 

"Yeah. Sorry." 

"Don't be sorry. Never be sorry for telling me what you do and do not want to do in bed. You did just what I told you to do: You communicated with me. That's very good, Ray. You're being a very good boy." 

Ray felt himself flush, and he felt the familiar warm feeling in his chest he got when Walter praised him. He was starting to really, really like that feeling, to want it as often as he could have it. 

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, baby," Walter said. "Are you comfortable with those inside you?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. I'm going to leave them in there for a while, okay?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Just lay back for me, honey. Relax." 

Ray relaxed back into the pillows. The beads were a gentle fullness inside of him, but he liked them. He watched Walter move between his legs, bend down over him. Walter's mouth fell to Ray's cock, and Ray panted out a harsh breath and threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He hadn't expected this. Walter had said sex was the area where they were most equal, but he had never thought of a dominant sucking his cock. It was another way he was lucky, he guessed. None of those doms from the agency would do this, he was sure, but Walter was different. He was kind, patient, fair, loving. And he was Ray's. 

Walter sucked the head of Ray's cock, flicking his tongue over the slit. Ray mewled and tried to keep still; he didn't want to be bossy. Walter took Ray a bit further into his mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of his throat, and the suction and the confident strokes of Walter's tongue along the underside of his shaft felt so good, God, so good… 

Ray panted. He wasn't going to be able to hold it much longer. Was he allowed to come in Walter's mouth? He opened his mouth to ask when, suddenly, Walter gripped the little loop at the free end of the anal beads and pulled them all out, all at once. The beads felt just as good coming out as they had going in—better, maybe, because now he was more sensitive than when they'd started—and there was nothing Ray could do to stop it: He came, crying out, his vision blurring along the edges. 

Ray let the pillows hold him. He panted, his heart throbbing at a frenetic pace. 

Walter came up over him, then gently rested his weight atop Ray, sternum to pelvis. _Oh._ Ray liked that _a lot_ , Walter's body against his, his weight pinning him to the bed. Walter watched him, expression calm, fond. 

"Did you like that, sweetheart?" he asked. 

"Yes, sir," Ray said, surprised to find his own voice raspy. 

Walter kissed him. "Good. Good boy." 

"Is it okay that I came in your mouth? Is that allowed?" 

Walter chuckled. "Yes, Ray, that's allowed." 

Ray reached out, toyed with a strand of Walter's long, loose hair, then traced the muscles in his arm with his fingertips. Walter just watched him, that same fond look on his face. 

"I like being in bed with you," Ray said softly. 

"Having sex with me?" 

"Yes, but that's not what I meant. I like it all the ways. Having sex with you, and being close to you like this, and cuddling up when I come down from subspace, and even when we're just laying together looking for sleep." 

"I like that, too, Ray." 

"I'm so glad I picked you," Ray said. "Are you glad you picked me?" 

"Of course I am. Every day." He kissed him. "Lemme get you cleaned up, and then we can go to sleep, okay?" 

Ray held onto him. "Can we—please, can we just have another minute of this?" 

The look on Walter's face was very soft. "All right, baby. I've got you. I've got you." 

Walter held him, and Ray held on.  



	13. Try

  
The next morning, Ray woke to a crack of thunder. He turned over, forced himself to breathe deeply, and thought, over and over, _You are going to get through this. You are not going to fuck up. You are going to get through this._

***

It didn't work. By eleven a.m., Ray was knocking on the door jamb to Walter's office, feeling desperate. 

Walter looked up from his computer. "Yes, dear?" 

"May I come in, please?" 

"You may." 

Ray walked into the room, stopped about a foot from Walter, who was turning his office chair to look at him properly. Ray shifted his weight, fidgeted. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Walter asked. "The storm?" 

"Mm-hmm," Ray answered miserably. 

"What can I do to help? Have you ever meditated? I can—" 

"Will you spank me?" Ray blurted, and then flushed violently. "I'm sorry for interrupting, it was rude, and I—I shouldn't have—please, I'm sorry—" 

Walter got up from his chair, walked over to him. Ray was tight as a fist, expecting Walter to haul him over his knee and get to work, but that wasn't what happened. Walter cupped Ray's face in his hand, and he held him still, and he spoke to him softly. 

"You're okay," he said. "You're okay." 

"I just—I'm so wound up that I feel like I'm going to burst through my skin, and I just want it out, Walter, please help me." 

Walter nodded. "I understand. Of course I'll help you. I want you to try to do something for me first, though. Can you do that?" 

"I—I don't know—" 

"You don't know whether you can try? You don't need to succeed; all I need you to do is try." 

"Okay," Ray said shakily. "Yeah, I can—I can try." 

"Good boy," Walter said. "I knew you could. Come sit over here for me." 

Walter led him away from the desk with the computer, past the drafting table and the sofa, to another table in the back corner of the room. There were a few blueprints spread out on it, and Walter put them away, clearing the space, and gently guided Ray to the chair. He sat. 

"Stay right there for me," Walter said, and went back to the other side of the room. Ray looked down at the table. It was just a regular table, not like the drafting table that bent and moved. He wondered what Walter wanted him to try. Was he in time out? 

Walter came back and laid out in front of him: a stack of paper—softer and thicker than the printer paper Ray was used to, more like the pages of a book—a handful of pencils, pens, and markers; and a ruler. 

"What I want from you, Raymond, is one hundred triangles." 

Ray frowned. "I don't understand." 

"I want you to draw me one hundred triangles. You don't have to do them all today; this is going to be a long term project I'll bring you back to. In the time I'm going to give you, you shouldn't even do twenty. I am looking for quality, not quantity. Whatever size you like, whatever kind of triangle, whatever medium you want—all up to you."

"I can't draw." 

"You promised me you'd try," Walter reminded him gently. "That's all I'm asking: For you to try. I want you to sit here for twenty minutes and try for me. You can give me twenty minutes of effort, can't you, love?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy. That butt doesn't leave that seat until I say so. Do your best. Don't let yourself get frustrated. And number them for me, please." Walter squeezed his shoulder. "I'm right over here if you need me, but I have every confidence that you can do this." 

Ray frowned down at the paper. The unblemished face of it was intimidating. He felt his restlessness claw at him, and did the breathing exercise Walter had taught him until he had calmed enough to pick up a pencil. He put the lead to the page, but then picked it back up. There was a pale grey dot on the paper now. Ray picked up the ruler with his other hand, and went to work. He used the ruler and the pencil to lightly sketch the shape, then put down bolder lines with a black, felt tip pen, taking care to make sure the angles met cleanly. 

He was so caught up in his task that he didn't notice Walter watching him until Walter set his hand on Ray's shoulder. Ray jumped a bit, and Walter squeezed down reassuringly, and smiled at him. 

"You worked very well," Walter said. "May I see them?" 

"It's already been twenty minutes?" 

"Yes. I asked you a question; I expect an answer." 

Ray flushed. "Sorry, sir, I … do I have to show them to you?" 

"No, you do not. They're your triangles; you can keep them to yourself if you want. How many did you get done?" 

"Um, eleven. You can—I guess you can see them." 

He handed Walter his paper. Walter studied it like it was a real work of art, not just a few shapes. 

"These are very nice, Ray," he said. "You took this seriously, and applied yourself. I appreciate that very much. I'm proud of you." 

Ray ducked his head. "They're just triangles." 

"No, they're not. They're a task I gave you that you did good work on. And I think you know that's not the proper way to respond to a compliment. Try again, please." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"You're welcome." He handed the paper back, and then he handed Ray a Manila envelope. It had his name on it, written in Walter's steady hand. "Please put your papers in this file, and then put the file in the bottom drawer of that filing cabinet, there, at the very front. You will be coming back to this, and I want you to know where to find it." 

"Yes, sir. May I leave the chair?" 

"You may." 

Ray did as he'd been told. Walter collected the writing implements and the ruler and put them back where they belonged, and then he gave Ray a squeeze as he led him out of the room. "Do you feel better than when you came in here?" 

"Yes, sir. But I still need …" 

"I'll give you a spanking, Ray. Now and any time you need one. But we need to work on other ways to deal with the emotions that are overwhelming you. Finding a project to work on, like the triangles, helped you. We're also going to start work on teaching you meditation techniques. You're going to hate them, but you're going to do them, anyway."

"Yes, sir." 

They entered the bedroom. Walter kept talking. "Once they start to help you, you may hate them less. We'll see." He stopped in front of the bed, gave Ray a grave look. "You remember the rules for behaving during a spanking, don't you?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Here's another one: You may initiate a spanking by asking for one, but you will never get to decide when it's over. You do not get to decide how hard I hit you. The second you go over my knee, I am 100% in charge of everything that happens from there out, understand?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"So I am going to ask you, just one time: Do you want a spanking?" 

Ray thought about it a minute. He could feel his raw nerves in every inch of his body. "Yes, sir." 

"All right. Come here." 

Walter sat down on the bed, legs spread a bit. Ray walked up to him, came up between his legs. Walter undid the front of Ray's pants, and then tugged his pants and his underwear down past his knees. Then he helped Ray stretch across his lap, most of his weight supported by the bed. 

Ray breathed. He felt Walter's hands on him, one weighing down on the small of his back and the other resting on his naked backside. It was going to hurt. He knew it was going to hurt, but he also knew it was better than the unbridled restlessness inside of him. 

"Please," he said. 

"Shhh," Walter said. He rubbed Ray's backside. "I'm going to take care of you, baby." 

There was a pregnant pause, and then Walter's hand lifted off Ray's backside. A second later, it slapped back down, palm flat, sending a sharp bite of pain through the fleshy part of his ass where he rested his weight when he sat. Ray closed his eyes, and focused on the feeling of Walter's hand smacking down on his ass, again and again, at a slow, steady tempo. Each smack would cause a stinging pain, and the force of each blow rocked Ray over Walter's lap a bit. As more smacks rained down, his whole bottom started to burn, the pain of a nasty sunburn. The longer it went on, the deeper the pain sank in, too, like a raw bruise. Ray drank in the pain. His breath started to rush out of him every time Walter spanked him, and then he was moaning every time he was struck. The pain mounted, his seat growing hotter, and he started to squirm a bit, but that didn't help at all. He was locked into this pain until Walter decided he'd had enough, and there was nothing he could do about it. At this thought, he began to cry, and he buried his face in his hands and let it all out. 

"That's a good boy, Ray," Walter said. "Get it out." 

He began to spank harder, landing vicious whallops all over Ray's ass and upper thighs, and Ray opened up, let all the tension and emotion overwhelming him pour out in sobs. 

He was crying so hard, it took him a while to realize he wasn't being spanked anymore. Walter was rubbing his back and speaking to him softly, telling him what a good boy he was, praising him for taking the spanking well, telling him that he was safe and loved. 

"I'm sorry I needed this," Ray bit out, his voice strained and shaky. "I know it's—it's childish to need a spanking." 

"Nonsense," Walter purred. "This is a good method of catharsis. Lots of subs need spankings for emotional or stress release, Ray. There's nothing childish or wrong about it, and there's definitely nothing to be sorry for." 

That just made Ray cry harder. It was a relief, but it also made him feel overwhelming gratitude and deep vulnerability. He felt young and open and naked, and it was scary. 

"I've got you, sweetheart," Walter soothed. "You're okay. You're okay." 

Ray struggled to get up, and Walter helped him sit up in his lap, snuggled in his arms. Ray clung to him, buried his face in the joint of Walter's neck and shoulder. 

Walter rubbed his back. "You're all right, Ray. Everything's okay. I won't let anything bad happen to you." 

Eventually, Ray calmed down. He felt stripped clean, empty and new. The restlessness was gone. His backside burned and ached, but the pain was something to hold onto, an anchor to keep him steady. 

When Ray was ready to let go of him, Walter lay him facedown on the bed. He rubbed the soothing cream onto Ray's well spanked ass and thighs, and then he bent down and kissed him on the temple. 

"There you are, sweetheart. I'm going to go make us some lunch. You rest here as long as you want; come out when you're ready." 

"Thank you," Ray whispered. 

Walter kissed him again, full on the mouth this time. "You're welcome, Ray. It's my pleasure." 

Ray relaxed into the pillows and the comforter, and let his breathing get long and steady. In a few minutes, he would get up and join Walter at the table, but for right now, he was content just to be.  



End file.
